


May The Best Bride Win

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn and Santana are set to be married. All they have to do is plan the wedding. However, nothing is ever that easy, especially not when these two are involved. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Battle Lines Are Drawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderinghope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinghope/gifts).



> This is written for the following prompt for aca-bitches as part of the FYQS Gift Exchange on Tumblr. I had hoped it would be a one-shot, but it's turned into a fic. Regardless, hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Prompt: Quinntana are getting married. A fic about the planning and build up to the wedding including bridezilla Quinn and in-it-just-for-the-cake-tastings Santana. And maybe the actual wedding/reception with all the Gleeks in attendance~ do want: hilarious nonsense fights between quinntana and also cute fluffy moments. don't want: mentions of brittana/comparisons to brittana... anything to do with brittana (or any faberry).

*00*

In theory, getting married was a brilliant idea. Fuck, there were so many good reasons, Santana didn’t even know where to begin. Not only was she going to be marrying the love of her life, taking her name, and spending her life with her, but she also had a bachelorette party to look forward to, getting married sex, planning the wedding sex, wedding day sex, just married sex, honeymoon sex, newlywed sex, wedding anniversary sex, and so many other fantastic occasions she hadn’t even considered yet.

So, _in theory_ , it was a win-win situation, but as she arrived home to find her house filled with their friends and talk of organising dates, picking dresses, tasting cakes, listening to bands, she realised she was wrong.

Getting married meant a wedding, and a wedding meant her perfectionist fiancée was now on her high horse and leading the wedding day charge.

She had made a terrible mistake.  This was not what she had envisioned when proposing to Quinn, and now she was in it for the ride.

*00*

“I’m thinking a spring wedding,” Quinn mused, having just come to join Santana in bed.

She had sought refuge in there after a ridiculous day at work, and the sound of Kurt and Rachel arguing over floral patterns for fuck knows what was giving her a severe headache. From the sounds of it, everyone had left, and that’s why her fiancée was crawling her way up the bed to her. Santana couldn’t complain about the latter part of that.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked, coming to a stop, straddling her fiancée’s lap. Santana was sitting up against the pillows, her book now abandoned on the bed next to her, as she ran her fingers over Quinn’s bare thighs. The skirt she had been wearing earlier seemed to have vanished, and instead she was now in a sleep shirt and underwear, looking gorgeous.

“Spring sounds good, if that’s what you want,” she replied, her eyes admiring all the skin before her. It was captivating.

“I want to know what you want. This is your wedding as well,” Quinn said, her hands coming to land on top of Santana’s. It was clear her fiancée was just agreeing with her for the sake of agreeing, and that was not what Quinn had in mind.

“I know, but I’m not too fussed about the details. As long as you’re walking down the aisle towards me on the day, I don’t mind.” Santana figured that was the right tactic to take. It wasn’t like she wasn’t excited for the wedding, she just didn’t want to plan it, especially when Kurt and Rachel were involved.

“Mmm, nope, you’re not getting off that easy,” Quinn mused, cocking an eyebrow in amusement.

“Dammit,” Santana cursed, sighing in defeat.

“Did you really think I’d let you off?” she asked, chuckling at the pout on Santana’s lips.

“It was worth a shot.” Santana shrugged and ran her hands up to her fiancée’s hips, hoping that it would ease some of the defeat. It did.

“Yes, I can’t fault you for trying,” Quinn said. Leaning forward, she kissed her gently, her hand leaning on Santana’s shoulder, before pulling back with a small peck. “So a spring wedding?”

“This spring?” That was kinda quick, in Santana’s opinion.

“Uh huh,” Quinn replied, running her nose along Santana’s neck, placing soft kisses there. It was a distraction technique, and a very good one at that, but Santana’s brain was having none of it. Her libido could take a backseat, because she knew for sure she wouldn’t be getting any if they pushed to have the wedding too soon as Quinn would be exhausted, she would be exhausted, and it would be carnage.

“That’s only six months away,” she pointed out, hoping to maybe push some sense into Quinn.

“And?” Apparently it wasn’t working.

“Isn’t that too soon?”

“Did you have a suitable time period in mind before we could officially tie the knot?” Quinn asked, pulling back completely, cocking one eyebrow, the smile falling from her face.

Oh good, Santana had managed to piss her off in the process of this conversation. Just brilliant. She should have known better than to suggest it was too soon. That practically implied that Santana wasn’t ready, or hell, that she didn’t want to get married yet.

“Well, no, but I mean how are we going to get everything done in time?” she backtracked, giving a soft, albeit nervous, smile.

“So you want to push it back a bit?”

“Maybe it would be better, less stress,” she tried again, shrugging her shoulders as if to say ‘you know best, I don’t know anything’. Quinn took a second to think it over and then sighed with a nod.

“Late spring, early summer then,” she compromised.

“What are you giving me, like three extra weeks or something?” Santana blurted out, not thinking. She was hoping for longer than that, like maybe they could wait a year, but apparently, that was not going to be the case. How the piss she was going to afford this, she had no clue.

“Two months,” Quinn said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll take it.”

“Good.” Quinn grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and Santana rolled her eyes, unable to resist her fiancée’s pretty smile, but peeved at only getting an extra two months. “Which means we will be getting married between April and June,” Quinn added, nodding again to reaffirm the point.

“So May?” Santana asked, figuring that was actually what Quinn meant.

“If you wish to pick an exact month, then yes, but we might need to be flexible-“

“I love it when we’re flexible,” Santana interrupted, reaching out to claim her bride-to-be.

“-on the date given how busy venues might be!” Quinn finished, chuckling and squirming as Santana’s hands continued up her thighs, over her hips and tried to continue up her shirt. “Will you behave, we’re having a serious conversation!”

“How can we have a serious conversation when you’re sitting on my lap like that and talking about being flexible? I can’t help it. Look at you,” Santana moaned, moving forward to kiss Quinn’s neck.

“Ugh, this was not where this conversation was meant to be going,” Quinn whimpered, dropping her head back to give Santana more access.

It was at that moment, a new plan was formulated. If Santana could pull it off, distract Quinn with sex when serious wedding stuff comes up, then she’d be set to never have to make decisions about it again.

Genius.

*00*

Santana’s plan failed miserably when Quinn started to arrange get-togethers with their friends, who would also be involved in planning the wedding. There was just no way she had the sexual prowess to pull off convincing Quinn into having a quickie when there were dates to be discussed and dresses to be looked at.

Shame.

Before an actual date could be arranged however, a venue had to be picked, and Quinn seemed intent of getting that set up first. She was willing to move the date around if she could find the ideal location, and because nothing had been booked yet, she had all the flexibility in the world to do so.

Smirking at the memories _that_ thought brought up, Santana tried to hide it behind her napkin. They were currently having lunch with Quinn’s parents at some ridiculous country club place, which was on Quinn’s ‘maybe’ list for venue. Santana didn’t really think the place was going to be suitable, because Christ, she was surprised they hadn’t handed her an apron and a tray the second she walked in the door. It was like WASP central.

She’d need to talk to Quinn about alternate locations. Her family would probably be given washcloths and be sent to wash dishes if they turned up here. No way was that the correct way to gel their families, using the Fabray’s home turf. Santana would need to find a place where it would be equally accepting. Convincing Quinn of such might be hard, especially if she had to avoid pointing out the fact some of the family was racist, but Santana was sure she could do it.

Quinn’s Uncle George, and her father at that, was notoriously sexist, racist and a right bastard. If Santana’s father didn’t knock his front teeth out before the entrees, it would be a miracle. That was the goal they needed to strive for, no family fights. She’d definitely need her friends help for that on the day.

Filing that piece of information away for later, Santana tuned back into the conversation and nodded and smiled where appropriate. Quinn was talking details with her mother, while Russell was examining something on his tablet.

“That sounds lovely. Doesn’t that sound lovely, Russell?” Judy asked, spinning to look at her husband. He stopped what he was doing and nodded.

“Sounds lovely.” Total crap, because there was no way he was listening, but Quinn and Judy smiled like God himself had given praise. “While we’re talking about the wedding, there is something I’d like to say,” he went on to add.

Quinn looked almost worried about the thought of him speaking, and reached over to grab Santana’s hand. Rather than worry herself, Santana sat bemusedly and waited. Over the years she’d acclimatised to the Fabray’s, she’d learnt that they never spoke out of turn in a public place. If he had said this while they were back at their house, then Santana would have been worried. But here, there were too many witnesses.

“I would like to extend the offer to pay our share of the wedding,” Russell said, nodding proudly just at the thought. “As father of one of the bride’s it’s my duty.”

“Oh yes, we must,” Judy chimed in after, then turning to her daughter to grin in delight. Ugh.

Santana knew that Mr. & Mrs. Fabray actually couldn’t stand the idea of their precious _Quinnie_ marrying a woman, and a Hispanic at that, but Mr. Fabray was trying to get elected Governor or something, Santana really needed to listen more often, and his support of his gay daughter would score him points in the polls.

Whatever, she was not going to turn down his money, especially not when she had finally seen the binder Quinn had prepared with Kurt to manage the costs of the wedding. She knew she was marrying someone with expensive taste, but fucking hell, it was one day.

They could make a down payment on a new house or something like that with the money Quinn had in mind. But, what she wanted, Santana would strive to give her, even if it meant she’d be paying it off for years to come. Whatever, their apartment wasn’t horrible. Who needed a house anyway?

Russell’s money would mean that maybe Santana would still have a significant chuck left if they ever did decide to move out of their place and find somewhere better, so she had to be at least a little thankful for that.

However, she also caught the glint in his eye, and the specific words he’d used. He clearly expected her father to pay for his share as well, and Santana didn’t need to think twice to know that wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t that her family wouldn’t want to, it was that she had a large family, and while they were better off than most, college education went above weddings in the family fund priorities.

“Thank you!” Quinn gushed, beaming happily, and Santana smiled too, just at the look of happiness on her face.

It would have been rude not to say thank you, and hell, he really was doing her a favour, so Santana thanked them both for their assistance, and shook Russell’s hand. He had a cocky little smirk, almost as if he knew her family wouldn’t pay the other half, but given they were in public, the man wouldn’t say a word.

Thank God for that.

Santana wasn’t sure if Quinn would still marry her if she decked her father. She certainly knew she wouldn’t be getting his money for the wedding even if Quinn did agree after such an action. So with that in mind, Santana sat back and allowed Quinn and Judy to go on over the details without her input, and later on when they were being given a tour of the place, she smiled and acted the dotting bride to be with Quinn and pretended all was right.

Once back at their apartment that night, after a long drive home and a quiet dinner, did Santana finally manage to shrug off the annoyance at her soon to be father-in-law, and let the day seep away from her. Quinn, however, did not get the memo, and it was with a quiet sigh, Santana was broached with the topic of the wedding again.

“So I’m thinking about calling Martin at the Country Club and having him look at available dates. He should have something for us, as I know he’ll love the attention this will get his venue. What do you think?” Quinn wondered.

“The Country Club, really? You’ve settled on that?” Santana asked, frowning. It was definitely not her ideal location.

“Why wouldn’t I? It was perfect. Didn’t you like the tour?” What was the polite way of saying ‘fuck no’ without any repercussions?

“It was okay, if you like that sort of thing,” she said instead, hoping that was enough to put Quinn off.

“That sort of thing?”

“I just thought it was a bit pretentious, stuffy and you know, overrated.” Santana shrugged one shoulder, hoping to make her last sentence sound less harsh, but Quinn pursed her lips and she knew it wasn’t effective.

“You didn’t like it,” Quinn stated, sitting up on the couch.

“For the money it’ll cost to book, I just think we can find somewhere more suitable.” Yeah, Russell was happy to pay for half, but she still had to pay the other half, and Christ, she could buy a brand new car with her share of booking the venue.

“What wasn’t suitable about it?” Quinn asked, now curious. From the sound of her voice, Santana knew she hadn’t dug her heels in about it yet, and there was still some wiggle room. This was where she needed to plead her case.

“You really need to ask?” Santana said, getting up off the couch and heading into the kitchen to wash the dishes. She just needed to be doing something to get through this conversation, keeping her hands busy and staying distracted.

“Yes. I honestly don’t get what the problem is,” she heard Quinn call through.

“Quinn, it’s like we step back one hundred years in time when we go in there. Did you even see any white servers?” That was being bold with her words, and Santana glanced over her shoulder to see the shocked look on Quinn’s face.

“What?”

“Look, I get that it fits your family’s style, but I know mine will not feel comfortable there. And that’s the last thing we want on the day, right?” Turning on the tap, she let the water run until it was hot before putting it in the basin.

“Are you saying my family is racist?” Quinn asked, now in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms crossed and an incredulous look on her features.

“Quinn, your aunt and uncle ushered me into the kitchen the first time you brought me home to meet your family. They had me cooking with your housekeeper, Juliana. I was even tipped two dollars at the end of the night for all my hard work, despite you coming to fetch me, several times.”

“They apologised for that,” Quinn said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Only because you made them,” Santana pointed out, rolling her eyes. “Surely you can see my point. The country club is great, it’s amazing, if you’re marrying a blue-blooded, Caucasian male. Given you’re marrying a middle-class, Hispanic female, I’d say it’s not the right way to go.”

“Stop that, don’t put yourself down like that.” Shaking her head, Quinn crossed the kitchen and stood next to Santana.

“I’m only doing what they’ll be doing if we have it there. Even the staff look at me like I’m not meant to be there.” She was laying it on a bit thick, but all of it was technically true. The staff did look at her like she was a traitor for falling in line with the Fabrays. She felt like one standing next to Russell.

“Okay, okay, we’ll find somewhere else,” Quinn conceded, biting her lip. She’d never really had this conversation with Santana before. Race was something that never entered the equation, but it clearly was something they should have spoken about previously.

“Yeah?” Santana asked, somewhat hopefully.

“Yes.” Kissing Santana softly in apology, Quinn wrapped her arms around her neck and held her close. “I’m sorry that they make you feel that way. We’ll find somewhere we both like. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Kissing her back quickly, Santana nuzzled her face into Quinn’s neck and inhaled. Her scent was soothing, and actually, that whole conversation was a lot less stressful than Santana thought it would be.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to work together on this.

*00*

Finding and picking a venue after that was actually surprisingly easy. They spent a few weekends looking around, searching online for places further from home, and soon found the ideal place. It was a hotel they could book privately for the weekend, and it was suitable for everything they needed. They even took some time away for a long weekend and stayed there, getting the feel of the place. It was exactly what they were after, and managed to fit both of their family styles.

The chef on site was willing to create a menu for them and allow them to taste it in advance, or allow them to hire caterers, which was music to Santana’s ears as she desperately wanted to try a handful of different menus to find the best one. Sex and food, they were the pros of planning a wedding.

Those discussions were still in the planning stages though, and Quinn had started making a list of all the jobs that needed to be done. A date had officially been set, what with the venue being booked, and it was decided that on Saturday May 24th, the two of them would tie the knot. Happy that it wasn’t ridiculously close, they had about seven months left to plan everything else, Santana was content to let the rest of the wedding plans come on gradually. 

Apparently Quinn had other ideas, though.

Another day, another night surrounded by far too many people crowding up her living room, Santana sat unamused. Quinn seemed to have arranged specific time slots for people to arrive where only the wedding could be discussed, and Santana had made the mistake of coming home earlier than usual and therefore getting stuck in one.

Rachel, who Santana had kinda demanded that she be her Maid of Honour, was currently going over the finer points of who was going to be with whom on the day. She really wasn’t paying much attention to it at all, instead, trying to watch TV in the background, while her fiancée was thankfully oblivious.

“No, no, we need to change that,” she heard Quinn murmur, moving post it notes around on the placard Rachel had procured from somewhere. Santana didn’t want to know.

“Hmm, that might work,” Rachel replied, still fussing with the post it notes.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Quinn agreed, and it was with a happy squeal that Rachel stood up, placard in hand, to present to the room.

Quinn, now no longer focused on that task, wandered over to the couch Santana was lounging on and cuddled in next to her, sneakily taking the TV remote in hand and turning it off as she did so.

“What, wait- I was-“ Santana made to protest, but given the look on her fiancée’s face, she knew it was probably better she just kept quiet.

“Smart move,” Quinn teased, kissing her cheek before Rachel started clapping exceedingly loudly.

“Everyone, may I have your attention!” she called, drawing the attention of Tina, Brittany, and Sam, who had all been hiding in the kitchen. Well, maybe they weren’t hiding, but that’s what Santana thought they were doing.

The three of them shuffled in and sought out seats while Rachel patiently stood waiting. Santana just knew that if Kurt had been there, he would be standing up there, too, dictating folk about and driving her insane, much like Rachel was. Thank fuck he couldn’t make it tonight.

“Great, now that I have everyone’s attention, I would like to draw your eyes to the wedding board, if I may,” Rachel began, hoisting the placard, or wedding board as it was apparently called, up onto the mantel piece.

“Here are the wedding parties divided up, and this is finalised. Quinn and I have taken things into consideration and it has been decided that these are the most suitable mixes for both brides. Plus, we cannot have couples together as that would throw the dynamics off. Now please take a moment to memorise who you are with.” Rolling her eyes at Rachel’s verbose speech, Santana took a moment to see who she was going to be with on the day of her wedding.

_Quinn’s Wedding Party: Brittany (MoH), Mercedes, Kurt, Mike, Sam_

_Santana’s Wedding Party: Rachel (MoH), Tina, Dave, Sebastian, Blaine_

Santana was pretty happy with her Wedding Party. Rachel was must, Tina would be good at keeping the nerves calm, and Dave was her best bro so he had to be there. Sebastian…Sebastian was good if he played nice, and he’d be ideal at schmoozing whoever she needed him to, so he was a plus. But then Blaine…

“Why did I get stuck with Warbler?” Santana spat, scrunching her nose in disgust.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, it was just that he was ugh. The boy needed to let loose, relax a bit, maybe get laid once in a while and chill the fuck out. Maybe grow a personality, too.

“Santana, we’ve gone over this already. We’re not having couples on the same team.”

“They’re not teams, Rachel. It’s a wedding, not a sports game,” Quinn amended, raising her eyebrows in warning to the room. She clearly didn’t want that to stick.

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry, Quinn. But yes, no couples in the same wedding _party_.”

“So why can’t I have Kurt?” Santana asked, thankful Porcelain wasn’t there to hear her words. He’d probably claim that she liked him or something as equally horrifying.

“Because he’s planning most of my events,” Quinn answered, giving Santana’s hand a squeeze.

“So?” She had said most of, not all, what was the problem? He could still plan her events from Santana’s team.

“So you can’t have him.”

“This is bullshit,” Santana murmured, shaking her head. Quinn just rolled her eyes at her fiancée’s pouting and leant in to whisper in her ear.

“You’re being ridiculous. Blaine is the least of your worries for the wedding, so stop with the pouting.”

“Why should I? I have every right to be upset. You basically thieved Kurt away from me.”

“Oh please, if you had Rachel and Kurt in your wedding party, you’d murder them both within minutes of each other. I did you a favour.”

Okay, Quinn had a point, but Santana was too stubborn to let her know that. So, instead of answering, she rolled her eyes and continued to sulk on the couch. Quinn knew she’d won that little round, especially when Santana had no comeback, and sat with a happy smirk on her face, much to her fiancée’s annoyance.

“Why isn’t Puck in any of the teams?” Sam piped up, seconds later.

“Wedding parties!” Quinn amended, the smirk falling from her face, and one forming on Santana’s.

“Right, wedding parties, why isn’t he in one?” Sam asked again, looking over the wedding placard.

“Because I am not having the guy who knocked up my fiancée anywhere near her or me on our wedding day,” Santana answered, crossing her arms again at the thought. Knowing Puck, he’d suggest a threesome or offer sperm if they ever needed it, and frankly, Santana did not want to have to go bury a body on the day she was getting married. That would totally ruin her dress.

“Yes, like Santana said, history meant it would be unwise for him to take part,” Rachel replied, making it sound a lot nicer than Santana’s phrasing.

“What about your family? Don’t you want them in the wedding parties?” Tina asked, also having a good look at the placard.

Jesus, Santana just knew that thing was going to take up a permanent residence on their mantelpiece and there was nothing she could do about it. Burning it might be too extreme. She’d have to wait and see if that was necessary. As of right now, it was not.

“I have too many brothers and sisters to pick from. It would be a war,” she answered, turning to look at her as she did so, and then to Quinn to see how she was going to reply.

“Frannie and I don’t see eye to eye on things and I don’t think she’d be the best support to have on the day,” Quinn then added, shrugging one shoulder, and hoping everyone would buy that reason. Of course, Santana decided to elaborate. It seemed Quinn wasn’t going to be as forthcoming about her big sister as Santana thought she needed to be.

“What Quinn means by that is Frannie thinks I’m the biggest mistake her little sister’s ever made, and if Quinn even had one moment of doubt, Frannie would have her in the boot of a car and be whisking her away to safety.”

It was ridiculous how true that statement was.

“Well, that’s awkward,” Sam mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact, much like everyone else in the room was. “We can help, on the day,” he added. “We can make sure she doesn’t steal your bride away. As a member of Quinn’s team, that can be my job!” He grinned at Santana, and she nodded along happily, actually pleased someone was going to be keeping an eye on that.

“Wedding parties!” Quinn threw in, pointing round at everyone to get the message. “They’re not teams.”

She was so naïve if she thought they were going to listen.

“Actually, Sam has raised a valid point here,” Rachel began, ignoring Quinn’s comment. “Each wedding party has been assigned jobs to do so we can speed the planning process along. I can recite the lists to everyone now, or-“

“As my Maid of Honour, it’s your responsibility to deal with all that, and delegate the shit you don’t want to do, okay? I don’t want to do anything,” Santana interrupted, waving her hand to move along.

She was not going to sit through what would be ten minutes of Rachel yammering on about who would be best suited for what job, when would be the perfect time to do it, and whatever crazy thoughts she had in mind when all members of their teams weren’t there.

“Okay then, I’ll just dish out jobs as I see fit, and I’ll get Brittany to do the same.” Tearing a page out of her notepad, with what Santana could only assume was Quinn’s Team’s duties, Rachel leant over to hand it to Brittany, who was looking at her lost.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t want to,” she said, shaking her head, and looking at Quinn for help.

“Kurt has agreed to take over the planning duties for me,” she explained, taking the paper from Rachel and placing it on the coffee table. “Brittany’s going to just be planning the bachelorette party.”

“Damn right I am! Booze and strippers galore on your last night of freedom, Q!”

“Wait, you’re getting strippers?” Santana asked, ignoring Brittany fist pumping the air and high-five with Sam.

“I don’t know, Brittany’s planning it.” Quinn shrugged, and smiled at the slightly horrified look on her fiancée’s face.

“Yes, she’s getting strippers, she has to get strippers,” Brittany called, having picked up on their conversation, and beamed at Quinn brightly.

“Brittany, one does not have to get strippers at a bachelorette party,” Rachel interjected, shaking her head with a worried look on her face. “That’s very demeaning to these women, to pay them to take their clothes off, and actually, I think it would be best if we agreed here and now-“

“I’m not getting strippers,” Santana suddenly said, slumping backward on the couch, tuning out the rest of Rachel’s little speech.

“Why do you think I was so happy that you chose Rachel to be your maid of honour?” Quinn asked, hiding her giggle behind her hand.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Santana deadpanned, to the amusement of her fiancée.

So her bachelorette was going to be some fancy and proper occasion, which was what she thought Quinn’s would be, while she had hoped hers would be booze and strippers. How the hell had that worked out? Why had she picked Rachel of all people?

Was it too late to tell her that she wasn’t allowed to plan the bachelorette party, or was that rude?

Fuck it, she was Santana Lopez, being rude was in her blood.

“Don’t even think about it,” Quinn said, clasping Santana’s hand just as she opened her mouth to speak. “Let her plan it, and if it’s not what you want, I’ll let Brittany plan a surprise one for you.”

“You’d do that for me?” Santana asked, surprised.

“You deserve to have a little fun during this too.” Smirking happily, Santana leant over and kissed Quinn softly, very pleased with that turn of events. She had the best fiancée ever.

Content with how that might work out, Santana sunk back into the couch with a smile on her face and snuggled closer into Quinn’s side. This wedding meeting wasn’t actually that bad, and if they were all like this then she’d have no problem. Surely they couldn’t be that bad, right?

*00*

The wedding planning good fortune continued for Santana, and for that she could not be more thankful. Granted, it had only been a few days since they went over everything, but still. So far so good.

“Santana?” Quinn called from the kitchen, rustling through sheets of God only knows what in her wedding binder. Santana didn’t want to know.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and they were taking this weekend off from officially planning wedding things. What that actually meant was they weren’t allowed to finalise anything, but apparently could talk about it until wanting to jump off the rood. Santana was already reaching that stage.

“Yeah?” she called back, slouching on the couch, the TV down low as she messed about on her laptop. She was attempting to plan the honeymoon without Quinn knowing, hoping to secure some of the best deals, but with her in the apartment it was quite tricky.

“Is your wedding party taking care of the photographer?” Quinn asked, making Santana pause for thought. Honestly, she had no clue, but thanks to Rachel’s placard, it was hard for her not to know. Said placard still hung above their fireplace, and it was a heinous reminder of everything that needed to be done before May.

“Eh…no,” Santana replied, seeing that it wasn’t on her team’s list.

“Okay, good. How about the cars?”

“Eh…nope.” She was actually relieved that wasn’t on her list as she had no idea what kind of transport Quinn would want to and from the venue.

While the reception was being held at the hotel they had booked, the wedding itself was being held in an old church, which had no affiliation with any faith. Transport was being put on for their guests to attend both, but that would be a coach or something, not like the fancy cars for the brides themselves. And given how meticulously Quinn had planned this, Santana knew she could only mess up if that had been her job.

“Right, and what about the band?” Quinn asked, the frantic sound of scribbling coming from the kitchen.

“No. Why? Is my team meant to be taking care of these things?” If Quinn was thinking about fobbing them off to her group of misfits, she had another thing coming.

“Wedding party, not team, thank you very much, and no. They’re on my list, but I want to make sure Rachel distributed them correctly before handing the list off to Kurt.”

Happy to know they both weren’t going to be trying to complete the same tasks, Santana went back to looking for hotels in Paris and flights. She wanted Quinn to have a honeymoon to remember. However, in order to do so, it was clear she was going to have to do this while the woman was not present, because the sound of Quinn heading her way was going to ruin the surprise.

“We need to start getting together a guest list. I’m thinking it’ll have maybe two hundred or so people on it,” Quinn said, coming into the living room, abandoning her binder in the kitchen and dropping onto the couch next to Santana. If her words hadn’t blown her mind away, Santana would have been faster at changing internet tabs. Thankfully, Quinn didn’t catch sight of what her fiancée was up to.

“Two hundred?! Quinn, I hardly know twelve people, what the hell are you thinking inviting two hundred?” That number was ridiculous, and Quinn pursed her lips for a moment and considered telling Santana it was on the low side. She actually was thinking there would be a lot more than that there. 

“Don’t talk rubbish. Your family is going to take a considerable chuck of that number, and your friends, our friends from college and work, and then you have my family, and the people my father wants to invite.”

“Why is your father getting his own invite list?” Santana asked, practically protesting.

“He’s the governor.” Pft, as if that made any difference. And with the frown on Santana’s face, Quinn knew this was news to her.

“He is? I thought he was just thinking about being the governor,” Santana said, glancing to Quinn in the hope she wasn’t going to be mad with her for not knowing.

“He was elected a few weeks ago, sweetie. Thank you for paying such close attention to our family matters, though,” Quinn muttered, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh come on, I’m sorry, but your father hates me, why should I take any notice in what he’s doing?” Santana said, defending herself.

“Because he’s paying half of the wedding and for that he gets his own guest list. Now, I want a list of everyone you wish to invite, and I’ll check it with mine, and then we’ll go over who is on it and if need be start crossing people off. Okay?”

“Okay.” What was the point of arguing? This was her dream wedding. Santana was happy to go along with it if it meant marrying the girl in the end.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered, moving closer to kiss Santana’s cheek. “And thank you for helping me with this.”

“I love you too.” She shrugged one shoulder in response to Quinn’s second sentence and gave her a soft smile in reply. She was happy, or rather she would do it regardless, for this woman. No thanks was needed.

Taking another look at the placard above the fireplace, Santana eyed the lists and briefly considered her group of misfits completing each task successfully and wondered what the really important ones were to Quinn. Feeling it safer to find out now, rather than later, she decided to ask.

“So is there anything on the list that my team could fuck up? I don’t want to ruin the wedding cause of their stupidity.”

“How many times do I need to say this? _Wedding party._ They’re not teams,” Quinn moaned, taking a deep breath before she lost it. She was not going to have that sticking, she just couldn’t.

Teams suggested sports, and her wedding was not a game or a sporting event. They were getting married, not playing baseball. Wedding party sounded so much better than teams.

“They’re teams. Who are you kidding? And seriously? Is there anything?” Santana asked, brushing off Quinn’s obsession with correcting the word team.

“I’m not telling you, especially not with that attitude,” Quinn replied, sulking. As far as she was concerned, Santana was doing this on purpose. She knew Quinn didn’t like the name, and yet she said it anyway. What a great wife she was going to make, ignoring her wishes and winding her up.

“Are you kidding me?” Santana asked, looking highly amused and a little shocked as Quinn crossed her arms and turned away from her.

“Nope.”

“You’re being ridiculous, and just for that, my team is going to kick your team’s ass!” she cried, throwing down the gauntlet.

“Kick…excuse me, kick my team’s ass?!” Quinn balked, her mouth falling open, spinning back to look at her. “If I didn’t love you, I would kick _your_ ass for constantly ignoring me when I say it’s not a team!”

“Oh please, you’re in denial here, Quinnie. They are teams, and mine is going to wipe the floor with yours,” Santana said boldly, using a nickname Quinn hated to get more of a rise out of her.

“Well, we’ll just see about that.” Quinn knew what she was doing and she was not going to rise to the bait. No way.

“Yes we will. We’ll just wait and see whose team shall win, won’t we?”

“They’re not teams! And yes, we will! Mine will!” Quinn called, standing up and heading back into the kitchen, hoping to leave the bickering there. It never worked, not with Santana.

“Okay, you have yourself a bet here, dear. I bet you that my team will screw up less than yours!” Santana cried after her, rising from the couch herself and grinning wickedly. She was so proud of herself. She loved the wild look in Quinn’s eyes as she tried to bite back her annoyance and frustration with her. It was terribly attractive.

“Done, but my wedding _party_ will definitely make less mistakes than yours!”

“Oh please, with your group of delinquents, you don’t stand a chance. I have Rachel.”

“I have Kurt!” Quinn yelled back, happy with her selection. He was going to be such a great helper.

“I have Sebastian!” Santana cried, and Quinn bit her lip in annoyance. Sebastian was a good choice. He had the suave style to him which meant he could schmooze anyone into giving him what he wanted, so he would probably be awesome.

Though, why they were hoping the other failed was beyond them, especially since if they did fail or mess up, it directly affected their wedding. Apparently, this thought didn’t factor into the equation right now.

“I have Mercedes!” Quinn finally yelled, hearing Santana begin to head back to their bedroom as if she’d just won this little argument. Please, if she thought she’d won with Sebastian she had another thing coming.

“Oh, what’s she going to do? Hook you up with Tater Tots for the reception? Please. I have Warbler!” Santana called back, not even looking over her shoulder as she did so. Such a cocky bitch.

“Blaine? What’s he going to do? Gel your hair back?”

“He has connections!” That had Santana stopping in the doorway, finally turning to look at Quinn so she could defend her choice.

“You don’t even like him!”

“If it means kicking your ass, I like him!”  God, had Santana actually said that aloud? Was it too late to take it back? Those words should never have been uttered.

“Oh, I’ll let him know then, shall I?” Quinn smirked, looking at her fiancée’s face pale at the thought.

“Don’t you dare, or the wedding is off!” Trying to seek refuge in the bedroom, Santana dove on in, and hoped to leave it there. Of course, Quinn was following, desperate to have the last word. Though, really, with the way they were going, no words would be said soon, only whimpers and moans. This was some of the best foreplay they’d ever had.

“Is that a deal?” Quinn called back, scampering into the bedroom after her.

“Damn right it is!” The wicked gleam in her eye and the cocky little smirk on her lips had Santana smirking back, and good lord, she loved this woman.

If this was what their marriage was going to be like, it was going to be fucking glorious.

*00*

 


	2. One-Nil

*0*0*

With the metaphorical gauntlets having been thrown down, each team worked hard to start pulling the wedding together. Quinn and Santana were thankful to have decent enough friends who were willing to help them out, and as winter progressed and the New Year approached, they all scrambled hard to finalise everything.

That’s how both teams found themselves sitting in the back of a luxurious bakery Quinn had been in contact with, about to start tasting the selections.

“Next on our list, and the reason we are here today, the cake tasting!” Rachel announced, grinning at the happy applause of her audience. Of course they were applauding, Santana had told them not to eat anything so they could get through this.

Quinn had quite a broad taste, and as of last night, the list was still considerably long. Santana had hoped she would have narrowed it down further, but that did not seem to be the case. With the prospect of trying over twenty different types of cake on the horizon, Santana decided to drag their wedding teams along for help in this almighty task.

Originally, it was only meant to be Quinn and Kurt, and Santana and Rachel, but no, everyone’s taste buds were needed for this. Despite loving cake, and it being one the main things Santana was looking forward to planning, with so many different tastes, textures, the icing, the fillings, she knew better than to think her stomach would make it through all that intact. So why endure that pain herself, it was much better to share misery.

“Quinn and I have spoken to Denise, and she has agreed to let each wedding party have their own tasting away from the other so we can all talk separately, no pressure to agree and we can come to our own conclusion on what cake we think is best. While it is Quinn and Santana’s wedding, we will be eating this cake, too,” Rachel continued, looking round to hand everyone off to Denise.

She introduced herself and gave a little history of the place before explaining what they would do exactly. It wasn’t rocket science. Eat cake, give it a score, move onto the next one. With that, she led Quinn’s team away and told them someone would be there in a minute with the tray of options.

It didn’t take long before the trays were brought in, each containing small square pieces of cake on each plate, and this was set out on the table before them. Each plate had a little placard with a number on it, and the scoring sheets were handed out for their opinions.

Santana couldn’t help but look round at her team; Rachel, Tina, Blaine and Dave; and think they all looked like they about to start a race, each ready with the first piece from plate number one, pens at the ready for any remarks they had, and eager faces at the prospect of finally being able to have some food. Briefly, she wondered if the same was going on in the other room. It was probably worse in there with Kurt leading the charge.

“Okay everyone, cake one. You should take a good hearty bite, not too big though, and chew slowly, making sure to taste the flavours, try and identify them if you can, and then write your initial thoughts. After which, you can finish off the rest of the piece and jot down more thoughts to share later. Are we all ready?” Rachel asked, as if she was some freaking expert on this.

“It’s cake tasting, Rachel. No need to take it so seriously,” Santana said, taking a bite of cake one.

“If Quinn could hear you now, she’d be appalled. You should be taking this seriously.”

“I am taking this seriously. I seriously don’t mind if this is my wedding cake, it’s not that bad,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. Cake one actually wasn’t that bad. It was a sponge cake with a hint of almond, and something else that Santana couldn’t place, and it was decent enough. It was a bit on the bland side, but was edible.

“Sass all you want, she’s your fiancée, and she’ll kick your ass if she thinks you’re not actively taking a part in the planning of your wedding,” Rachel said, shaking her head as she wrote her remarks on cake one.

“Actively taking a part? I’m here, am I not?” Santana frowned, wondering if Quinn thought she wasn’t getting involved enough, and deducted that it couldn’t be the case. She was doing things…not as much as everyone else, but she was secretly planning the honeymoon, that counted for something, surely.

“You’re here for the cake.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Rachel rolled her eyes at Santana’s words, promptly putting an end to that discussion. “Oh, and while you’re talking about kicking ass, I have been meaning to tell you guys that I expect perfection from you all. Quinn and I have a little competition on the go, sort of whose team can screw up less when planning the wedding, and I’d really like to win. So can you all not mess up?”

“Good luck convincing Sebastian of that. He’ll practically sabotage you,” Dave said, eating the cake squares whole, much to Rachel’s horror.

“Dave, you should have small bites, it’ll sit better in the palate-“ Frowning in disgust as Rachel’s need to control, Santana turned to Tina.

Dave had made a good point about Sebastian but for now Santana was going to pretend he’d never spoken in the first place. Sebastian was always a bit of a nightmare, but he somehow had turned into one of her closest friends after college, and yes, he was an asshole, but he was a dependable asshole. He would sabotage for kicks, but she was pretty sure she could talk him into playing nice if she bribed him with good booze.

“You’ve not screwed up the flowers or anything like that? I heard Rachel put you on flower duty,” Santana said, just wondering what exactly flower duty entailed, but she was not going to ask.

“Your faith in me is inspiring, Santana,” Tina deadpanned, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, though, I’ve been coordinating with Quinn, and everything is going great. Your flowers will be lovely.”

“Great, just what I like to hear.” Shooting Tina a thankful and slightly apologetic smile, Santana went back to eating the cake squares and jotting down her thoughts.

They continued doing so, with constant tips from Rachel on how to achieve the best tasting results, for much of the morning, and as time passed by, some would stop for a break, and only eat the recommended cakes. By cake thirteen, they were all back at it, having drunk plenty of water to keep them going, and now running on a sugar high from the icing.

Due to Rachel’s incessant nagging, they were now all tasting the cake at the same time so facial expressions didn’t throw the others off. The girl was crazy, but her methods did seem to be helping them, and with this in mind, all of them promptly bit into cake fourteen with enthusiasm.

They had made a terrible mistake.

 “Oh shit, what the fuck is in that?” Santana cursed, spitting it straight back out and onto her napkin, much to the shock of the others, and then the cake hit their taste buds, too.

“This is disgusting, do you have another napkin?” Dave spluttered, reaching outwards for some form of napkin to be handed to him. Santana thrust one at him quickly and began guzzling her water, hoping to rid that foul taste from her mouth.

According to the sheet, cake fourteen should have been passion fruits and tropical juices. Well fuck, the only passion involved there was how keen they all were to spit this crap out. It was not an explosion of sweet fruit, but rather like rotten fruit, the tanginess and the sickly sweet taste mixing with the heavy cream icing and causing Santana’s stomach to churn.

“Oh…that’s interesting,” Rachel said, clearly not swallowing the bite of cake as she spoke with gritted teeth.

“You can curse, Rachel. It’s not a crime,” Santana said, wanting to wipe her tongue with her napkin, or a bar of soap, or sand paper, just to remove the damn taste.

“Shut up and eat your cake,” Rachel replied, swallowing it down like a champ, and Santana felt like making some comment about her clearly being used to swallowing things she didn’t like but there was quite a lot of cutlery lying out and she wasn’t going to chance it. Rachel was crazy enough to stab her and get away scot-free with it.

“I’m not eating this. It’s awful,” she replied with instead, and reached out to try another cake, in the hope to hold back the urge to vomit. Everyone seemed of the same mind, and hands sought free cake across the table, munching on it happily.

Just as they began to settle down again, the door opened and in slipped Quinn. She was smiling brightly, eyeing the plates on the table, and moved into the room properly. Santana wanted to reach out and pull her closer, but she was too far away, and to make up for this fact, had another piece of cake. Why was Quinn standing all the way over there?

“So what one did you guys like? My favourite was number fourteen,” Quinn said, looking at the table in search of another piece of said cake.

“Fourteen, really? Wasn’t it too sweet?” Santana tried, eying her napkin carefully. Hopefully Quinn didn’t know she’d spat said cake out. Could they see them? Did they know? Was this a joke?

Looking back to her fiancée to see if she was taking the piss, Santana raised her eyebrows in question, a nervous smile on her face, and avoided the watchful eyes of her team. They were all hoping Santana was going to control this situation and not let it get out of hand. No way were they attending the wedding if that was the cake they were serving.

“No, I thought it was perfect,” Quinn replied, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Oh…great,” Santana murmured, trying hard to look happy. She was sure she actually looked pained, but Quinn didn’t seem to notice.

“Yay,” Santana’s team cheered softly, filled with fake enthusiasm.

“So are we settled on fourteen?”

“Is that the one you want?” Santana asked, biting the bullet and just going along with it. It was Quinn’s dream wedding, this is what she wanted. Maybe Santana could convince her to put another dessert on the menu for people who didn’t like cake. Maybe this situation was salvageable.

“Yep.”

“Then…sure,” Santana said sadly, trying hard to smile. Quinn chuckled and shook her head.

“Come talk to me for a minute.” She didn’t leave room for argument as she quickly left, and Santana made to follow. Her team all began to talk, to demand she change Quinn’s mind, but she shushed them as fast as possible. She did not want Quinn overhearing and getting upset or something.

“Keep your mouths shut. I’ll fix this…but you might not want to have the cake at the wedding,” she said, sneaking out before their protests could start up again.

Finding herself in the hallway, she made to go to the room where Quinn and her team were trying the cakes, but it turned out her bride to be was not there. In fact, Quinn had snuck off into what looked like an old storage cupboard. It didn’t have a door, but rather a curtain that was pulled along, and underneath it, as it didn’t go to the floor, Santana could see Quinn’s shoes peeking out.

“I’m here to talk for a minute,” Santana said, slipping past the curtain. She was right, her suspicious were correct, it was an old cupboard.

God, she’d spent years living in a metaphorical one, why was Quinn literally dragging her in one?

“You need to stop,” Quinn said, a sweet smile on her lips and a vibrancy to her look that had Santana drawn in. How could she not? Those hazel eyes were mesmerising, and Quinn’s smile was hypnotising. She was powerless against her.

“Stop what?”

“Stop giving me everything I want, or apparently want.” Quinn raised her eyebrows as if expecting Santana to challenge her statement, which she was about to, and laughed as Santana’s shoulders dropped in defeat.

Okay, so Quinn knew she was only going along with what she wanted. Why was she surprised by this? Surely she knew Santana would give her whatever she wanted.

“Most people would be charmed by this, you know,” she said, moving closer and taking Quinn’s hands in her own.

“I know, but I’m not most people. Cake fourteen was ghastly, but you didn’t have the backbone to tell me. Is that what our marriage is going to be like?” Quinn bit her lip worriedly, and Santana frowned in protest at her words.

“Hey! I do so have a backbone!” Quinn raised one eyebrow again, as if to was ‘really?’, and Santana backed down. “Okay, maybe I don’t when it comes to this wedding, but I want you to have your dream wedding, Q. I know you want it to be perfect.”

“You’re misunderstanding one thing about that, though. In my dream wedding, while I do care about the flowers and the food, none of that really matters so long as you’re at the end of the aisle waiting on me. You are what makes my dream wedding perfect. So please, talk up if you don’t like something, tell me and we’ll change it. This is meant to be your dream wedding, too,” she said, squeezing Santana’s hands to emphasize her point.

“Q, you should know better than anyone, I never had a dream wedding because I was never going to get married.”

“So I really have destroyed your backbone if I’ve convinced you to agree to marriage.” Quinn frowned at this thought, and Santana had to act quickly before she took it in a manner it was not meant to be taken.

“You have, in regards to that, but I love you more for it.”

It was true, she did.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she said confidently, tugging Quinn closer to kiss her softly, hoping to kiss her fears away to some degree.

Santana didn’t think she ever would get married because marriage was such a farfetched thing. She never really liked committing to someone, spending most of her life terrified of coming out, but with Quinn, it was different. She wanted to, and was confident enough to know she would do everything in her power to make sure they stayed together for as long as possible.

Marriage felt like the right step to take. They had been together for years, having a few on and off stages in their younger days, but they had come back to each other time and time again. This time, there would be no off stage, it was final. She was marrying this girl, if Quinn would have her, and that would be that. One woman for the rest of life. Quinn for the rest of her life. It actually sounded pretty amazing.

“So are we serving cake fourteen at our wedding?” Quinn asked, breaking their kiss and checking to see if her fiancée was finally going to speak up.

“Hell no. Cake three.” That had been a glorious cake, and she was actually hoping they would give her some more if she requested them.

“Cake three?”

“Or cake seven,” Santana added, thinking over all those she had tasted. Right then and there, she didn’t need the sheet. These two had stood out for her, and if she was to eat cake on her wedding day, she wanted it to be one of them.

“Oooh, that’s a good combination actually. We could have them on alternating tiers. That would be amazing. I need to see if that’s possible.” With that thought in mind, Quinn darted out the closet and went off to find Denise.

Santana was left standing a bit dazed, wondering why Quinn had left her so abruptly, but she smiled to herself anyway. Quinn was enthusiastic about this, about them and their wedding, and Santana needed to get on board with that, too.

*0*0*

Following the day in the bakery, Santana did in fact get more involved in the wedding planning. Christmas passed, the New Year came in, and January bypassed them pretty quickly with work and real life, but they did get back into finalising things by the end of January. They were only a couple of weeks behind the schedule Quinn had in her binder, and the chart Rachel had stuck to their fridge, so it wasn’t too much of a worry.

Quinn and Santana were ticking off another task for their wedding, and this time they opted to leave their teams at home. They went out to the caterer they were thinking of using to sample the menu that was being offered, and along with getting to spend a Saturday afternoon eating delicious food with her fiancée, Santana actually found herself getting exciting about the wedding. It was close, and coming closer each day.

That night, after calling Kurt and Rachel to let them know which caterer they had chosen and giving them the details arrange everything with the hotel, Quinn and Santana found themselves sitting down to go through the guest list together.

Invitations would need to be sent out within the next month or so, in order to get on everyone’s calendar apparently, so it was about time they decided who was actually going to be attending. The hotel had plenty of rooms, and Quinn had agreed with the manager in charge that any unoccupied rooms would be bought just so they could have the place to themselves.

Santana was struggling to think how she was going to pay for all of them if people decided not to show up, but she really shouldn’t have. The list of guests Quinn wanted to invite was far more than what they had previously spoken about, and after a lot of ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘fuck no’, ‘not over my dead body’, ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ the two of them settled on a list.

Quinn then made sure to send all the names on to Kurt, as her team was in charge of invitations, and Santana was thankful her team wasn’t. If she gave it to Rachel, it would be a clusterfuck of constant questions on who they had invited and who they had missed, Dave would probably do it but it wouldn’t be done enthusiastically and Santana would probably end up helping, Tina was already on flower duty, Warbler was getting no responsibility, and Sebastian would probably cut their list down to only those he deemed worthy.

However, with Quinn’s team no doubt successfully completing this task, Santana’s team didn’t stand a chance of earning any points. So far, it was even, as neither bride could blame any slight hiccups on their teams, as it was all their own fault due to their own bickering. That was going to change.

Tina was in charge of the flowers, Sebastian was schmoozing someone for the men’s suits, Dave was helping Santana get all the paperwork ready and finding a Justice of Peace who would be willing to marry them, and Rachel was doing all the major organising that needed to be taken care of. There was plenty that could go wrong with all of that, but Santana needed to have faith.

From what she knew, Kurt was in charge of finding a photographer, Sam was meant to do the invitations once they’d been finalised, Mike was setting up the wedding day cars and transport, and Mercedes was on duty for the band and music. Santana was convinced some of that would go wrong. It just had to.

Musing on that thought, how she was actually hoping something would go wrong, Santana realised how screwed up that was. Okay, so she wasn’t actively hoping something went wrong, but she just knew mistakes were inevitable. There, that sounded better.

One of those moments presented itself a few days later. Santana had come home early to spend time with Quinn, something she was going to have to stop doing if she wanted to keep her job, and was sprawled out on the couch. Technically, she was still working as she was reading over notes and files that needed to be looked at, but okay, maybe it didn’t really count given how much of a distraction her fiancée was being.

Quinn was attempting to do some type of yoga thing to get fit for the wedding, Santana had no clue what it was exactly, and was stretching rather provocatively on the living room floor. She had dragged the coffee table out of the way, and was bending here, squatting there, and altogether making Santana forget that she was reading something and instead memorising the way her fiancée’s body moved.

It was captivating, and Santana’s mind was already plotting what she’d need to do to get Quinn to abandon her exercises and join her in the bedroom. It might take a lot of persuasion, but Santana was sure she could pull it off. It might require pulling off a few layers of clothing along the way, but that was a sacrifice Santana was willing to make for the greater good.

“I’ve booked a photographer, and a videographer!” Kurt declared, suddenly waltzing into the apartment like he owned the place, with Blaine trailing behind him.

Okay, what the fuck? Had she not locked the door? She was sure she’d locked the door. Why were they invading her space? What the hell was the meaning of this?

Quinn, unperturbed by this disturbance, bounced up, grinning and spun to greet them, as if they hadn’t just acted like rude little heathens. Seeing Blaine standing there, Santana narrowed her eyes and sat up on the couch to fully glare at him. 

“Warbler, is that you consorting with the enemy?” she barked.

“He’s my boyfriend…” Blaine said, smiling and nodding as if that made it all better.

“He’s the enemy. From now on, you’re not allowed to talk to him. In fact, to help us all out, you’re not allowed to talk or see anyone involved with the wedding. Go on now, leave,” Santana said, pointing towards the door, making him freeze. He clearly didn’t know whether to take her seriously or not.

“Ignore her, she thinks she’s being funny,” Quinn said, completely unfazed as she wandered over to Kurt. Santana frowned at being dismissed so easily. “So the photographer, you got the one I asked for?”

“Well…no,” Kurt replied, looking a little uneasy.

Santana couldn’t help but smirk at her fiancée’s unsure face and she just felt a victory for her team already. If this was how things were going to play out, it was going to be brilliant. All the points would go to her, she would win, Quinn’s team would lose, Ha!

“I got someone better,” Kurt declared, grinning brightly, and wiping the smirk of Santana’s lips in the process.

“Someone better?” Quinn asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Yep, this guy is the best of the best, and although he didn’t quite fit into your budget, I managed to get a discount.”

“Really?”

“Yep!” This, in turn, caused Quinn to laugh excitedly and pull Kurt into a hug. There was more squealing and happiness, which Santana tuned out as she dropped back on the couch, and then stupidly found herself smiling at the sound of Quinn.

It was a defeat, but it felt like a victory. When it came down to it, Santana wanted pictures of their wedding day so even if she became so old she couldn’t remember it, she could damn well see the beautiful girl she married.

So okay, her team wasn’t going to get a point for that, but whatever. It seemed like a decent trade off. She’d happily accept defeat if it meant Quinn got everything she wanted, but really, she was sure this little competition had rallied the troops and was encouraging them to try harder at making this a success. No one wanted to be the friend that cocked up their friend’s wedding.

Though, with the friends they both had, she wasn’t sure any of them would mess it up. They all had come through for them so far. Santana could only hope that would continue.

*0*0*

 


	3. Breaking Point

*0*0*

Chapter Three: Breaking Point

*0*0*

Heading to Mercedes’ to pick up the all the information she had gathered on the bridesmaid dresses they were thinking of going with, Santana and Quinn parked as close as they could to her building before heading inside.

The final decision on the dresses did lie with Quinn and Santana, and that decision would have to be made soon if they wanted everything arriving in time, but the girls had all been consulted. Given they would get to keep this dress, it needed to be something they all liked and felt comfortable in. So with a few weeks’ notice, they had banded together and found styles, colours and designers that had what they wanted, then listed the boutiques and shops where they could be found.

Santana and Quinn were tasked with going through their notes, and then creating a shortlist to see in person. It was not going to be easy, and Santana wasn’t looking forward to it one bit, but it had to be done. Plus, maybe this would inspire her to think of her own wedding dress and what that might end up looking like. She was still lost for ideas, and knew eventually she’d have to tell someone she didn’t have a clue what to wear on the day, however, that was not today.

Taking the elevator up to Mercedes’ floor, Quinn began searching her bag for the spare set of keys Mercedes had given her for this very reason as she didn’t have time to drop it off, and continued walking down the hall. Santana was too focused on Quinn’s ass swaying in front of her to see the body moving their way, and it wasn’t until a collision had been made that she even realised there was someone else in the hallway with them.

Looking up sharply to yell at whoever had just about knocked Quinn off her feet, Santana was met with the guilty and terrified face of Sam. It didn’t take a genius to work out why he was there, given the time and knowing that Mercedes was at work already. He’d obviously spent the night, if that hickey on his neck was anything to go by, and it was clear he thought he’d be able to sneak out and make a break for it unnoticed.

What a fool.

“Sam!” Quinn cried, smiling happily at first, and then her smile dropped as she looked him over. His clothes were all crumpled, his hair was in disarray, and he looked like a child who had just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Quinn, Santana, hey!” Sam tried hard to be enthusiastic in an attempt to hide his surprise and shock at seeing them, but it failed miserably. One thing Santana knew about Quinn was that she was like a shark smelling blood in the water when it came to secrets. She just knew, and it was obvious she was very much aware of what they’d just accidentally found out.

“You have got to be kidding me?” she muttered, closing her eyes and sighing.

“Look, Quinn, it’s not what you looks like,” Sam began, only to shut his mouth sharply at the no nonsense glare Quinn was giving him. “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like.

“I thought so. God, Sam, you’re throwing off the dynamics of my wedding party!” Quinn cried, looking appalled at the thought of things becoming awkward if Mercedes and Sam had any issues.

They were in agreement on that. If any of the couples had a fight or broke up by the time the wedding came around, then it would be painful to endure their presence. Everything was done in teams, and they were having to spend a lot of time together, so Santana could see why Sam and Mercedes might have ended up where they had, but God, if it screwed with their wedding, she’d kick their asses. There was enough to worry about already.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! It’s just, it’s been a while since Mercedes and I have hung out this much, and you know-“ he began to explain, shrugging one shoulder as if his actions were excusable. Rookie mistake.

“I do not know and I do not want to know. Rachel is going to kill you for messing this up.” Santana couldn’t help but think it was time Rachel and Quinn spent some time apart, they were clearly rubbing off on each other, and that only screamed disaster. Rachel would never kill anyone, Quinn would; and Quinn would never be so anal about something, Rachel would.

She had made a terrible mistake thinking those two could work together.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” Sam said, unsure as to how the dynamics of the group would change at all.

“Did you send the invitations?” Quinn asked, ignoring his comment completely.

“What?”

“The invitations, did you send them? That was your job yesterday, which Kurt assured me you’d do, but yet here I find you sneaking out of Mercedes’ apartment, so did you send the invitations?” Oh he was in big trouble, and if it wasn’t so amusing to watch, Santana would feel sorry for him.

“A little help here?” Sam asked her quickly, turning for some help.

“You’re on your own buddy,” Santana said brushing her hands of this mess. She knew what that face meant on Quinn, and she was not getting involved. She did not want to be lying in a shallow grave next to Sam off the interstate later on that evening. She already had plans with her serial killer fiancée.

“I asked you a question, Sam,” Quinn said icily.

“Okay, no. But I’ll send them today-“ he said quickly, and then stopped when he heard Quinn take a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment to recollect herself, and when she opened them, the murderous glint beneath the hazel was enough to have Sam backing up towards the elevator. “I’ll go now, I’m sorry. I’ll go do it now.”

Stumbling over his feet to get away from Quinn, he darted inside and smashed the buttons to close the doors and take him to the ground floor. Only when the doors shut completely and the hum of the elevator moving did Quinn’s body relax slightly.

“Point to my team,” Santana said suddenly, breaking the silence and drawing attention to herself. She should have waited a while before doing so, because Quinn still looked pissed.

“What? You can’t be serious.” Quinn turned to her and crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes as she spoke, and briefly, very briefly, Santana considered conceding right there and then, but she was not to be intimidated.

“Q, he didn’t send the invites when he was meant to. He messed up. And he broke one of the cardinal rules! Don’t sleep with members of your team. Two points to my team.” Wow, that was bold of her, and Santana fought hard to keep the surprised look off her face as she looked at a seriously pissed off one.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Yep, it’s two points to me and Rachel would agree.” Throwing the Rachel card was a low blow, but it worked.

“Of course she would, she’s on your team!” Santana smirked at the slip up, and Quinn hurried to correct herself. “Wedding party! She’s in your wedding party!”

“I thought I heard you say team,” she drawled cockily, and Quinn glared.

“I thought I heard you fall down an elevator shaft,” she spat venomously, pulling out the keys and unlocking Mercedes’ door.

“I love it when you’re feisty!” Santana called after her as Quinn headed on inside, smirking while she did so. 

“Shut up and get in here!”

“Yes Ma’am!” Santana did not need to be told twice, and not even Quinn’s angry little glare and pout would be enough to knock off her good mood. She was breaking through Quinn’s defence, and she was getting closer to her bride-to-be admitting they were wedding teams, not parties.

It was about time.

*0*0*

As the weeks continued to crawl by, more and more items were ticked off the ever expanding list Rachel, Kurt and Quinn had devised to keep this wedding on track. Now they were actually having to plan outfits and get fittings, ensuring that their wedding teams looked as awesome as ever on the day.

This was where Sebastian became Santana’s secret weapon. She had opted to ensure the guys were all properly fitted for suits that would work with their colour scheme, and after being handed the task gave it straight to him. He was a snobby bastard, but he had great taste, and he knew how to look classy. All those years surrounded by the rich and tasteless had somehow not impeded his own ability of good taste. That’s how Santana found herself standing in a men’s tailors, eyeing the varying styles of suits and colours.

“Ah Santana, come to admire my handiwork,” Sebastian said, grinning and clasping his hands together. He was wearing a suit, and initially Santana thought that was what they’d opted for her wedding, which would have been vetoed, but then it became clear by the mumbling from the dressing room that actually Dave was the guinea pig today and was trying the wedding outfit on instead.

“Come to scrutinise it, more like. What have you got planned?” she drawled, pretending to be bored, but not really achieving it. She didn’t want Sebastian to have the satisfaction of knowing she was interested.

“I spoke with Quinn, because we both know she has so much more class than you’ll ever have, and we went over styles, colours and the necessary-“

“I don’t care, what are the guys wearing? Show me.” She was only impatient because if she didn’t like them she was going to have to work out a kind way of telling Quinn, and maybe getting them to go back to the drawing board about it.

Though, with how little Santana had actually managed to change about the finer things she didn’t agree with, it didn’t look likely that any change would be made. Where the hell was her backbone when she needed it?

“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled, spinning to look at the dressing room. “Dave, come on out.”

Dave pulled back the curtain of the dressing room and walked out, looking ever the gentleman in a three piece suit, charcoal grey in colour, with a matching vest, and then a silver tie to top it off. It was classy looking, Santana would give them that, but not too much to draw attention away from the brides themselves. As much as she hated to admit it to him, Sebastian had done a good job.

“It’s alright,” she mused, moving closer to inspect it. “How’s it feel?”

“It’s pretty comfy,” Dave replied, stretching his arms in front of him and nodding his head. “I’d wear it.”

“You’d…you’d wear it,” Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “This suit is worth-“

“Do not tell me! I don’t want to know,” Santana cut in, holding her hand up to him. “Do not tell me how much it’s worth. I already know I’m going to be broke, let’s not remind me of that fact, okay?”

Already the bills were beginning to climb, and the Fabray’s had simply said they’d write a cheque at the end of the wedding, which meant Santana had to pay for it all first. Technically, everything was coming out the joint bank account Quinn and Santana had set up, where they were each depositing a certain amount each month, but still. That bank account wasn’t covering everything, and Santana was not putting it on credit, so it had to be coming from somewhere.

Her savings may be taking the hit, but Quinn didn’t need to know about that yet. If she could just make it through until the wedding, it would be fine, and from her calculations and the rough estimate Kurt and Quinn had worked out which was proving to be rather accurate, she would have enough money to cover it. Hopefully.

“Okay, we won’t tell you how much it’s worth,” Dave agreed, shooting Sebastian a look so he agreed, too.

“What could I buy with this type of money?” Santana then asked, not wanting to know the exact figure just yet, but still needing some kind of idea of how much it would be all together.

“In total, you could renovate your kitchen, in a new house.” Santana paled at the thought and reached out to grab Dave’s arm, who just happened to be shooting Sebastian a glare as she did so.

“Relax, Sebastian has some discount here, you’re fine. Plus, all of the groomsmen have agreed that we’ll buy these, if you want us to,” he went on to say, making sure Santana was not going to faint on them, and eyed the suit he was in. He actually would be happy to buy it, because without the waistcoat, it would work as a really good work suit.

“No, Quinn and I agreed, we’ll buy them, you guys are doing enough already, it’s cheaper to buy these and give them as gifts than employ people to plan this wedding for us.” It wasn’t really slave labour, but close enough for Quinn to insist them reward their wedding teams.

“I think we’re going to overrule you here, Santana. We’re buying them.” Dave wasn’t having any of it. From listening to Kurt’s yammering every now and then he had heard some of the figures being thrown around for this wedding, and while he knew Santana and Quinn both had well-paid jobs, they didn’t have this kind of cash on hand.

“No, you guys have to pay for rooms at the hotel, you can’t,” Santana replied, shaking her head.

“Fine,” Sebastian said, shrugging his shoulders. “We’ll pay for half of the suits, and we’ll get our rooms for the hotel as well. The rest is on you.” He had a glint in his eye that Santana didn’t like, but before she could question what it was about, Dave had jumped in.

“That sounds fair.” He was nodding and smiling, his hand clapping Santana on the back.

“No it doesn’t-“ she protested, but it was on deaf ears.

“Shut up, and take our money,” Dave said, knowing that if they didn’t get her to stop now, before she’d really started, then she’d never stop.

“I’m not happy about this.” Santana crossed her arms and tried to fight the pout forming on her lips. She was thankful for their help, because this would save quite a bit of money, but a part of her did feel guilty about it all.

“Yeah, we’ll we’re not happy with the prospect of having to squeeze round your tiny dining room table because you two are too broke to buy a house. Keep your damn money and make it up to us when you move out of that shithole,” Sebastian replied, rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t the truth at all, but the insult would distract Santana and keep her away from him long enough to talk to the salesclerk. Yes, he had discount here, but he intended to give her half of what the suit would be at full price. She would be none the wiser unless she checked her bill that they would be giving her more than half, but he doubted she’d do that. She was, after all, not keen on knowing how much everything cost, so why look at the one piece of paper detailing it all?

“That shithole?!” she spluttered, and he knew his plan had worked. She looked livid. Lovely.

“Let it go, let it go. We need him alive until after the wedding,” Dave soothed, sneaking an arm out and grabbing Santana round the waist before she lunged for Sebastian’s smirking face. Dave was pleased to see he still had a good range of movement in this suit, as he was certain there would be more than one close calls at the wedding before a brawl broke out.

“As soon as I say ‘I do’ I want you to take him down and lock him in the boot of my car. We’ll bury the body before cutting the cake,” Santana seethed, planting herself back down in the chair and crossing her arms once more.

“If you two are quite done, I’d like to go over a few things about the guest list,” Sebastian said, cutting them off from any more nonsense.

Frankly, his good side could only withstand so much of Santana’s attitude before disappearing, and he didn’t want to revoke his generosity because he was feeling petty. It was best they all moved on. Plus, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction when he told her that she’d somehow sent an invitation to Sue Sylvester. That definitely couldn’t have been Santana’s idea.

*0*0*

Coming back from the groomsmen suit shopping, Santana practically stormed into her apartment, and immediately sought out Quinn. She was sitting on the couch, phone in hand, and scribbling notes into the wedding binder. Whatever was going on, didn’t look good, but Santana accepted the kiss Quinn blew her way, and grumbled as she headed into the bedroom to change.

She had just thrown on some pyjama shorts and old t-shirt when Quinn came in to join her. The blonde had instantly known that Santana was pissed off when she arrived home, and was thinking with a little bit of carefully placed kisses, they could forget all about the day’s stress and have a relaxing night together.

“Why did you come in looking all moody? Did Sebastian not play nice? I asked Dave to keep an eye on things.”

“Oh no, Sebastian was great! He was amazing actually,” Santana drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word, but it was lost on Quinn.

“Oh yeah?” Quinn crossed the floor to hug Santana, but she shrugged out the way and moved to the other side of the bed.

“Yeah, so great in fact, he even gave me a heads up that our old Cheerios Coach was somehow on the invite list, which is hilarious, because I distinctly remember her not making the cut.”

They had sat down and gone through the names, all the different piles, and Sue hadn’t come close to being invited. Santana had vetoed her right off the bat, and given the rules they’d made about vetoing, Quinn couldn’t ask why, but just had to accept the fact as so. It was to stop arguments, and if Quinn had maybe not ignored her fiancée’s wishes, it probably would have.

“Oh…you’re really mad.” Quinn had not predicted her being this pissed off about this. She was hoping when Santana found out they’d actually be married and she could distract her with the prospect of their wedding night, but that was not going to be the case. No amount of seduction would pull Santana off this warpath.

“Yeah, I’m mad. What the fuck is Sue doing coming to our wedding?”

“She might not come, Santana.” Technically, the invites had just gone out, a couple of weeks ago, and only a few people had replied, so it was foolish to think Sue would definitely be there.

“She was invited, why? You know I can’t stand that woman. She may have wet dreams about you, but she hates me, and the feeling is mutual,” Santana said, her jaw clenching and the anger rising in her. It was like someone had lit a fuse, and she was powerless to put it out. She didn’t even know where all this anger had come from.

“You hate everyone who has wet dreams about me. How can you expect me to have a big wedding if that’s the criteria of who can be there or not?” Quinn tried to joke, but it was a lost cause.

“Of course I hate everyone who has a wet dream about you, you’re mine!” Santana cried, spinning on her heel as she paced the floor to point at Quinn. It was the wrong thing to say, as now Quinn was frowning at her words, and it was obvious this semi-fight was going to be more than that.

“Oh, how very caveman of you, Santana. It’s good to know I’m not my own person but am in fact yours,” she spat back, bitterly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Santana muttered, shaking her head.

“No, that’s exactly what you meant.” And it was. Quinn was no fool when it came to her fiancée’s possessive streak; she just hadn’t seen it in a while and had hoped it had died down. She’d clearly been wrong, it was very much still present, and still an issue.

“Quinn, this isn’t even what we were talking about. Why is Sue invited to our wedding?” Santana asked, trying to get back on track. There was a reason she was worked up, she just needed to remember what it was and get answers.

“She may not have gotten along great with you, but she did become a close mentor to me,” Quinn explained, knowing it wasn’t going to mean much to Santana. She was right, of course.

“What are you talking about? Q, she kicked you off the Cheerios when you were pregnant, she made you a pariah, she had us seriously underweight from her mandatory diets and crazy practices, and she was a psychopath! She probably still is! Why do you want her there?”

It made no sense to Santana, not one bit. Sue had taught her a lot of harsh lessons, but those same lessons could have been taught via different methods. She didn’t need to be constantly ridiculed and made fun of because of her ethnicity, sexuality, and figure. She could have done without the boob job jokes; she could have done without the protein shakes; she could have done without the practices that didn’t stop until she’d vomited; her teenage self could have done without all of that.

How could Quinn not understand that she didn’t want to see the woman who made her high school days ten times harder than they had to be at her wedding? All Sue Sylvester did was bring up bad memories of never eating, of bullying people for fun, of hiding in the closet, and of being a gutless coward. Those were not the feelings Santana wanted to evoke on her wedding day.

“She pushed me to be stronger,” Quinn began. “She pushed me to stand up when I was weak and not let anyone take away what I wanted. I would not be who I was without her, and at times, she showed compassion. So yes, I invited her, I want her there. I want her to see what I’ve become, what I’ve made of myself. I want her to know that her lessons weren’t wasted on me, I’ve got what I wanted, I’m happy, and no one can take that away from me.”

To Quinn, Sue’s harsh lessons were exactly what she needed to break free of her family’s regime. They controlled her completely, and she tried to follow in the footsteps of her sister, being exactly what they wanted her to become. Sue had taught her to ruthlessly go after what she wanted, regardless of those standing in her way. Yes, the methods were wrong, and at times it was all very messed up, but to Quinn, she was proving a point.

Despite all the problems of high school, all the heartache and the tears, Quinn had risen from it stronger, braver and was no longer the scared little girl she once was.

“Couldn’t you have just told her in a letter?”  Santana mumbled, rubbing her forehead and temple, feeling a headache coming on.

“She probably would have crashed it anyway, so I don’t see what the harm is.”

Sue might have crashed the wedding, Santana would admit to that, but if they really wanted they could have her stopped. Quinn’s dad, the Governor, had enough security at this damn thing to make Santana nervous about some of her family getting in, so surely they could keep Sue Sylvester away. But no, Quinn wanted her there, and what Quinn wanted, she got.

“Of course you don’t understand the harm, you were her favourite!” Santana cried, the fuse finally having blown, and the inferno raging inside her. “I was always second choice. Just what we need at this wedding, another person who thinks you’re settling, you’re marrying someone beneath you, expect in Sue’s case, that is true. I was always beneath you in the pyramid, whether right at the bottom or not. She should sit with your family and talk with your sister on how to save you from ruining your life. They can both stand up and object when the Justice of the Peace asks if anyone has any reason why we can’t be wed, if your father doesn’t beat them to it on religious grounds. God, what a fantastic fucking wedding this is going to be,” Santana ranted, waving her arms as she spoke and then storming out of the room, the bathroom door slamming seconds later.

Quinn was left speechless, wondering how that had escalated so quickly, and if there was anything she could have done to fix that before it blew up in her face. It didn’t seem likely, as if felt like Santana was just venting her frustrations the only way she knew how.

Dropping to the bed with a sigh, Quinn just hoped Santana wasn’t regretting proposing to her. Planning a wedding should bring the couple together, not be driving them apart. How was this going so wrong?

And, with everything Santana had said, did she really feel so inadequate with Quinn?

*0*0*


	4. Anticipation

*0*0*

Santana was being a complete and utter coward. Since her ranting and raving at Quinn, she had been hiding from her fiancée. That night it seemed they were both in agreement that it would be wiser to give each other distance and reconvene in the morning. However, Santana woke up at the crack of dawn the next day, got ready for work and snuck out the door. Three days had passed since then, and she was still trying to fly under the radar.

Her biggest fear, hew absolute biggest fear, was that Quinn would call the wedding off, and okay, that was stupid, because why would Quinn call it off? It’s not like she’d done anything horrific, just mouth off and freak out, but then again, lately Santana’s biggest fear had been centred around Quinn leaving her. So really, her mind wasn’t in a logical place, and hiding out at her office, sneaking in late and out early, and avoiding all communication with their friends seemed like the right way to go about things.

They really needed to talk, because this was not a healthy start to their future, but Santana wasn’t even sure how to bring it up. While Santana had hidden away, Quinn seemed to have followed in her footsteps. She was spending longer hours at work, bringing more of it home with her, and just generally being as distant as Santana, which kinda sucked. Santana had at least thought Quinn would want to talk to her, to patch things up.

Now she was too scared to even broach the topic, and as she sat in their bedroom, head in her hands, trying to work out what to do, the fears inside multiplied and took over any rational thought she had left. She didn’t want to lose Quinn, she didn’t want to even think of that happening, but that’s all she could think about.

It was the sound of the turning of the locks and the front door opening that had Santana breaking from her mind for just a moment. She heard Quinn walk in, and then two sets of feet follow her inside. It didn’t take long to suss out it was Kurt and Rachel, and they were talking about the wedding.

Rising from the bed, Santana moved to the door to head out and join them, but froze with Kurt’s question, hand over the door handle, breath caught in her chest, and mind ablaze.

“What happened?” he asked, a sympathetic note to his words, and Santana could practically see the look he was giving Quinn.

“We had an argument, it’s fine,” she replied, brushing it off in a manner Santana was so used to.

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? Quinn, we need to know if there’s going to be a wedding or not,” Rachel said, stress eking into her voice.

“There will be a wedding, okay? Just…there will be a wedding.” Quinn sounded broken, haggard, and Santana could picture her standing in their living room, looking defeated. The mental image squeezed Santana’s chest, aching from the inside out, and she frowned as they started speaking again.

“Do you…do you want us to talk to her?”  Kurt asked, unsure.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Will you let us know when we’re to arrange-“ he continued, only to have Quinn interrupt him.

“Maybe…maybe we should hold off on arranging anything, until I talk to her,” Quinn paused, and Santana took a shaky breath, waiting for her to continue. “I don’t know if there is going to be a wedding anymore. I want there to be one, but she’s…I don’t’ think she wants this…me. So just hold off on things for now and I’ll let you know what’s happening, okay?”

Hiding had been her worst idea ever. She’d given Quinn the impression she didn’t want her anymore, and that was not okay at all. Frowning as the guilt and shame hit her body, Santana listened to Kurt and Rachel bid their goodbyes, and then the sound of Quinn puttering around the apartment.

It was time to stop hiding.

Taking a deep breath, Santana opened the door and wandered into the hallway, seeing the shocked face of Quinn staring back at her as she did so. Dazed for only a second, Quinn broke eye contact and shuffled the folders she had in her hands, before turning and filing them away in the desk drawer. Santana expected as much, but moved closer, needing to end the physical distance between them.

“I didn’t know you were home,” Quinn muttered after a moment, shaking her hand and running a hand through her hair. “I thought you’d be working late.”

“I was going to but…” Pausing to try and catch Quinn’s eye, she failed and sunk onto the couch. “Can you even stand to look at me?”

That question did catch her attention, and Quinn spun around to see her fiancée bundled up in on herself on the couch, head in hands, watching her with empty eyes. Sighing, she crossed the floor and sat down next to her, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach, and an all too familiar ache that had plagued her chest these last few days.

God, this was ridiculous. They’d fought before. The practically started wars before, shoes flying here, venom spat there, glaring, shouting, slamming doors, huffing and puffing until they were both out of steam and could talk like adults, but this felt different. This was actually about something serious, not who didn’t wash the dishes, not who didn’t put their shoes away, not who forgot to pay what bill, not who was actively flirting with the waitress at dinner, nor who then proceeded to tip less in jealousy.

This was about their families merging, their lives becoming one, completely, and if they were compatible enough to do so. Marriage meant compromise, but from Santana’s ranting, Quinn was under the impression that her fiancée was having to make a hell of a lot more compromises than Quinn ever had. Santana had to deal with Quinn’s family, which god, was painful at the best of times, but she did so with a smile on her face, and now Quinn could see the cracks that had formed from one too many of their racist, sexist, belittling remarks.

She knew she wasn’t directly to blame for this, because she was not a product of her environment. She didn’t spread their hate, or condone it in any way. However, maybe she shouldn’t have brushed it off so much, pretended it wasn’t an issue, especially when Santana was hurting from it. And god forbid, did Santana think she would turn into them?

“I don’t want to lose you,” Quinn confessed, hoping there was still time to salvage this.

Now it was Santana’s turn to look shocked.

“Lose? Lose me? Q, you’re not losing me. I know I freaked out, and I know I acted like an idiot hiding from you, but I’m not ending this, I don’t-“ Shaking her head to try and understand the thoughts buzzing frantically about, Santana took a second to recompose. “I still want to marry you, I still want you, nothing has changed that.”

Quinn looked doubtful, and as she bit her bottom lip nervously, she tried to piece together Santana’s thinking from the night they argued.

“But this wedding, you’re not looking forward to it at all. That’s not how it should be. You sound like you hate the very idea of it, that you don’t want to-“

“I don’t want you to make a mistake.” There, it was out in the open, ready for them to talk about. “What if everything everyone has been telling you is true? What if I’m not good enough for you?” Santana’s insides felt like they’d been punched as she finished her sentence, opening herself up like that, practically giving Quinn an out.

Quinn had no intention of taking said out, however, and looked at Santana like she’d lost her mind. In her eyes, she had. Her fiancée had never sounded so unsure before, and it was frightening to witness.

“Stop, stop it, okay? I don’t want to hear that,” Quinn began, reaching out and taking hold of her hand in case she decided to flee. “I don’t care what everyone else is saying, they don’t matter. That’s not how I feel, and that’s all that counts. I know I’m not making a mistake. And forget this ‘not good enough for you’ because Christ, Santana, if we play those cards, we’ll both be saying the same thing. I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life, enduring my family and their prejudices without you moaning and groaning about it, and maybe it looks like I take that for granted, but I don’t. I can’t express how much it means to me that you’d do that, that you’d expose yourself to their hate just to be with me. So no, if anyone isn’t good enough here, I think we know who that is.”

“Don’t talk crap, Q,” Santana argued, shaking her head, only to see what her fiancée meant. They could argue until they were blue in the face, neither of them were going to agree that the other wasn’t good enough for them. “That aside, do you honestly think you can handle their disappointment and the shame they’ll cast upon you when you legally bind yourself to me? Are you going to still be saying this when we’ve double-barrelled our names, are talking about babies and ethnicity? Are you really going to be able to accept how they will look down on your child because of the colour of their skin, just like they do me?” There was so much pain in her voice, Santana had to swallow back the lump in her throat as she finished.

“If they do it even once, they’ll never see us again,” Quinn replied, deadly serious, just thinking of that exact scenario and how she would never allow her child to endure that. But now she felt like she’d punched herself in the gut, because she made Santana go through that.

Without thinking about it, Quinn reached up, and ignoring the flinch Santana made when her hands flew past her, she wrapped her arms round Santana’s neck and buried her face there. Holding on tightly, she took a shaky breath and then felt Santana’s hands coming to wrap around her waist, holding Quinn to her, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head as she did so.

The apology was silent, but it was very much there, and Santana didn’t need Quinn to say it aloud. She could feel the hot tears against her neck as proof that Quinn was as broken by this conversation as she had felt. There was now an understanding, a clear acknowledgement of how that situation couldn’t continue.

Santana didn’t worry about Quinn becoming like her family, because she had never made such comments or made Santana feel worthless like that, but she did worry if they started a family that child would be exposed to it. That was not going to be conducive to a happy relationship, but now with it addressed, they could work on it. Somehow.

“I’ll talk to them. I’ll make it clear,” Quinn mumbled out, accepting Santana’s slight nod before curling back up against her, desperate for the affection to ease some of the guilt and shame sitting in her system.

All they could do now was pick up the pieces and move on.

*0*0*

In the weeks that followed, no more was mentioned about their argument and the fallout from it. Of course, this was what Santana and Quinn did best, brushing things under the rug. So neither were surprised by the others reluctance to talk about it, but both accepted it had been dealt with.

Quinn had visited her parents and made it clear where she stood. It was as if someone had taken the rose-coloured glasses off and she could finally see clearly. Even the conversation about the wedding she had with her mother before addressing the situation head on had been laced with slight digs and underhanded remarks. Standing there in her parents’ kitchen, she felt like a blind fool having missed all this, and then more shame at how Santana had dealt with it silently.

Like Quinn expected, her parents weren’t too happy with her sly way of calling them racist and practically demanded she be blunt. That went down well. However, after several hours of discussing it, Quinn left her parents’ house and made the long drive back home to Santana feeling relieved.

They had got the message, and they would spread the word. They either accepted this marriage, and Santana and her family for everything they were, or they didn’t attend. If Quinn felt they weren’t being supportive enough, they’d be asked to leave. And yes, she made it clear she would kick the Governor out of his own daughter’s wedding and let everyone know why if he didn’t behave himself.

Whether the Fabray family listened was yet to be seen in person, but when Quinn arrived back home, Santana saw the fatigue in her body and tackled her in kisses, appreciating the effort. From then on, the issue would be laid to rest until it needed further addressing.

Alerting their friends that the wedding was very much still going ahead kick-started plans back into action. Rachel and Kurt continued to organise all that needed done, and they took the stress of Quinn and Santana at times they most needed it.

Of course, Rachel and Kurt couldn’t plan everything, and when it came to buying the wedding dresses, that was something Quinn and Santana had to definitely be a part of. Rachel did tell Santana she could pick out something for her, but that might be putting too much trust in her Maid of Honour. Plus, Santana was actually looking forward to it, which clearly meant she had lost her mind.

Quinn was ecstatic when they had been told to plan what weekends they could go dress shopping, and Santana had heard about every single type of cut, colour, style, designer and _feel_ relating to dresses in the weeks leading up that the pressure was suddenly on. Quinn knew exactly what she was looking for, and Santana had no clue.

She had narrowed it down to a dress,  because when she pictured herself marrying Quinn, she was in a dress. It wasn’t exactly white, because no, but it was still a dress regardless. She wasn’t going to be wearing a suit or anything like that. She saw the dress in her mind, and that was it. That was all she had.

Having a rough idea in your mind and then trying to make that idea a reality was another thing altogether, though. She wasn’t too sure on the cut, the colour, the design itself, she just knew it was a dress, and it wasn’t white. Quinn would probably be wearing white, which she would look fucking glorious in, but she wasn’t and that was the only thing she had in mind as Rachel dragged her wedding team into the boutique that weekend.

Kurt and Rachel had apparently combed the city before narrowing down the lists and divvying things up. Each team had the weekend to find a dress in their allocated stores, and if they came up short, the following weekend they would try again in the stores that was on the other team’s list. It was a full proof plan, and the only hiccup that could arise was if the brides bought the same dress, but that was highly unlikely, and apparently Rachel and Kurt had a plan if that was likely to happen.

Santana didn’t even want to know would it was.

So Santana knew exactly what she was getting herself into that morning, and she should have been prepared, but standing in a shop surrounded by dresses, each one different, really made her feel out of her depth. How was she meant to find the perfect dress when there were hundreds to choose from?

Seeing Santana  out of her depth, Sebastian, the only male member of Santana’s wedding team who was present, entwined her arm in his and led her towards some of the dresses out of sight from the saleswoman, who Rachel and Tina were talking to.

“Take a breath, for God’s sake. If you faint, Rachel will kill you. She has this whole day planned out,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Santana confessed, gripping his arm tightly, knowing that without his support she’d probably have hit the floor by now.

“Get married?” he checked, raising his eyebrows in question, having heard about their little tiff recently but thinking it had been dealt with.

“No, find a dress.” She could easily get married. Hell, that was the easiest part as far as she was concerned. No, it was the leading up to it that Santana couldn’t do.

“Oh please, you won’t have to do anything. They’ll shove dresses at you, you put them on, and gradually Rachel will narrow down what you’re looking for. This will be easy.”

“Easy? Sebastian, this is the first place we’ve entered, and I doubt it’ll be the last.” The list was long, and she was not naïve enough to think she’d find her perfect wedding dress, the one she had no clue about, in the very first place they went to.

“Santana, have you looked around? This is one of the best wedding boutiques in the city, if you don’t find your dress here, you may as well go naked,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“I’m sure Quinn would just love that.” God, that would certainly be a good way to test the Fabrays support, making a statement like that.

“It would certainly be a wedding to remember,” Sebastian chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as if it were an option.

“I’m not going to my wedding nude,” Santana muttered, silently thanking him for calming her nerves.

“Nude? Oh that’s a great place to start!” Rachel cried, coming up behind them silently, clearly having heard their conversation. She spun around to the saleswoman who was waiting on them hand and foot and beamed. “Can you show us some of the nude dresses you have? Also, do you have any suggestions on the type of style that is more favourable for a spring/summer wedding?”

“I told you,” Sebastian whispered. “She’ll do all the work, you just need to put it on, say whether you like it or not, and it’ll all be taken care of. We’ve got this.” He finished his statement with a slight nod and Santana shot him a smile, very pleased he had agreed to turn up for this.

Originally, Santana’s mother and two of her sisters were meant to be coming, but that fell through. Quinn still had her mother and her wedding team going, which consisted of Brittany, Kurt, Mercedes, and Blaine (the traitor had abandoned ship and switched teams). Though, in Quinn’s defence, she did offer some of her team members to even things out. Santana only tuned her down because she thought it would be easier. However, upon realising it would only be Rachel and Tina with her, she knew she needed at least one other person to help calm the crazy.

Sebastian was free and the last person she thought would agree to come, but already he had made himself useful. She totally didn’t give him enough credit for what he did to help out, and maybe she needed to start accepting he could be a decent human being when he felt like it. Of course, then he opened his mouth and reminded her exactly who he was again.

“Christ, you’re not wearing that, you’ll look like a two-dollar hooker who has gotten lost. We all know she has tits, they don’t need to be falling out the dress to prove it. Get something classier,” he barked, waving the shocked saleswoman away and ignoring an aghast Rachel and Tina. “You’re so lucky to have me here.”

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, Santana nodded. She was lucky to have him there, and for the rest of the morning he proved his worth.

By the time lunch rolled around, Santana had tried on eight dresses in total, all having made it passed Sebastian, Rachel, Tina and her own strict standards. They were all lovely dresses, but none really appealed to Santana the way she thought _the_ dress would. So when she tried on dress nine with the assistance of the saleswoman and looked at herself in the mirror she just  knew, this was it. No matter what they said, this was it.

Sebastian could trash it. Rachel could turn her nose up in disgust. Tina could couch awkwardly and shake her head. None of that mattered, Santana had found _the_ dress.

As luck would have it, when she walked out to their eager eyes, none of them said anything at all. Everyone was silent, waiting on someone else to give their opinion. Santana could hardly control her excitement, knowing she looked phenomenal. Catching sight of the first smile in the room, Santana’s eyes honed in on Sebastian’s and he nodded proudly, just before Rachel cheered and clapped happily.

They had found _the_ wedding dress.

Looking at herself in the mirror once more, she couldn’t wait for Quinn to see her in this, and also couldn’t help but wonder what Quinn would be wearing. Their wedding photos were going to be simply stunning. There was no way they couldn’t be.

Now all Santana needed was the day itself. The lost excitement about the wedding was back, and now she was looking forward to it. It really was going to be a great wedding.

*0*0*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. – Shorter chapters for faster updates. Next chapter is the bachelorette parties.


	5. One Step Closer

*0*0*

With the dresses bought and being altered to fit, everything else started coming together rather successfully. The band was booked, the cars and coaches had been arranged for their many guests, the flowers had been set up, the place settings and table arrangements were finalised, and wedding rings had been chosen. All they were waiting on was for the day to draw nearer so they could head off to the hotel.

They were taking the Wednesday off and driving up to the venue with their wedding teams, and their families would arrive that night. Then they had the next few days to have the wedding rehearsals, the dinner rehearsals, and to sort out any last minute kinks. It would also be a good opportunity to have the families mixing before the big day.

By Friday, everything would hopefully be in place for the wedding the following day, and ideally, everything would go off without a hitch. That was the plan, anyway. Whether it happened that way or not was another thing.

None of that mattered, though, as there was still one rite of passage that had yet to be filled. Before they could head off to get married, Quinn and Santana needed to have their bachelorette parties. Quinn was dead excited for hers, fully confident in Brittany’s mind to plan a good one; while Santana was dreading hers as Rachel was never to be trusted.

She had faced the fact that she wasn’t going to be getting strippers of any sort, because Rachel had sent out invitations for a very luxurious spa day, in the hope to clear the mind and body of any toxins so they may not impede on the blissful times ahead, or so the invitation said. While being a little bummed out, she knew a good relaxing day could actually help, especially with the stress all the planning had brought on.

It was decided that for convenience, and because Quinn didn’t dare risk any hangovers on her wedding day, that the bachelorette parties would take place before they left. It wasn’t following the typical last night of freedom, but neither of them were regarding their nuptials as if they were being tied down.

Santana was actually thankful that her bachelorette party wasn’t going to be taking place at the hotel because then she’d have to include a hell of a lot more people than she wanted to. This way, the numbers were small, and she’d not have to endure anyone’s unwelcomed presence.

Or so she thought.

Given how much each wedding party had done for the brides, Santana and Quinn did say that they would have their bachelorette parties on different days and therefore make it so everyone could attend them. Brittany and Rachel, on the other hand, decided against this. Apparently, Santana wouldn’t be trusted to look after herself when she knew Quinn would be around strippers, and Quinn would probably end up going on the spa day because she would need to feel relaxed, too.

The Maid of Honours had taken the decision out of their hands and therefore made sure that each wedding party stuck to their allotted event. It was all very controlling of them, but Quinn wasn’t complaining.

It was the afternoon of the bachelorette parties and while Quinn was heading out that evening for a dinner and a night of debauchery, Santana was getting into a car with her team and driving to a hotel for the spa day to take place the following morning. Rachel insisted on the full treatment, which meant a wakeup call at seven am and the first treatment at eight. She had wanted them to drive their first thing in the morning, but Santana put her foot down. She was not getting up at four in the morning for that. No way.

This meant Santana and her team would be having dinner in the hotel, getting drunk most likely, and spa treatments the following day, before returning on Sunday. That gave Quinn enough time to recover and hide any evidence of her fabulous night. It was a decent trade off, they decided.

So Santana was packing a bag and glancing at the clock, knowing Quinn was running late, and waiting on a phone call from Tina to say she was downstairs. The banging of the front door told her that her fiancée had arrived home, and from the sound of heels hitting the floor and a bump against the wall, Santana knew she was rushing. Therefore it was no surprise to see her fumble her way into the bedroom.

Now normally, Quinn would forgo rushing and give her fiancée a proper greeting, filled with pleasantries, but that didn’t happen. Not one bit, much to Santana’s disappointment.

“I need you to take my mother,” she said hastily, throwing her jumper over her head and continuing to strip down.

“What? No! Q, this is my bachelorette party, I am not having Judy their judging me the whole time. She’s your mother, why can’t she go with you?” she argued, shaking her head and ignoring the sight of her fiancée slip her bra off. Good heavens. Why were they going anywhere? They could have their own party here.  

“Because I just found out Brittany booked us a table at the members only burlesque club, and I am not watching women tease and titillate the audience with her sitting next to me!” Quinn flipped open her wardrobe door and began looking for the dress she’d picked out that morning.

“So, have her sit next to Brittany. And how the hell did she get a table in there? That’s a gentlemen’s only club.” Santana couldn’t help but fight the envious pout forming on her lips. She had only been there once, visiting a client who was sleazier than she thought possible, but from what she saw, it had been amazing.

“I’m well aware, but she’s friends with the performers or something, I don’t know. You have to take my mother. She wants a spa day,” Quinn replied, shrugging the dress over her shoulders and letting it fall down her body. Santana tried to ignore the sight, but that just wasn’t possible.

“Nooo! Quinn, this isn’t fair!”

“Please, please, please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please take her with you?” Quinn begged, shooting a desperate look over her shoulder.

“No, I’m not,” Santana replied, shaking her head and biting her lip. She wasn’t going to cave on this.

“I’ll wear the new underwear you found…the ones I wasn’t going to wear until our honeymoon...and we can...” Quinn raised her eyebrows and smirked not even having to finish that sentence as Santana immediately swallowed and licked her lips, caught up in the idea of what exactly they would be doing.

“The one with the bows?” she asked after a moment of trying to control her immediate libido.

“The one with the bows,” Quinn confirmed, already knowing she had Santana hook, line and sinker. “Please?”

Santana was huffing and puffing, trying to fight the thoughts flying through her mind. Images, flashes of skin, sounds of moans, god, she wanted Quinn in that underwear. Now, if she said no, Quinn would never wear them. This was terribly unfair.

“But she’s mean,” Santana whined, going for one last-ditch attempt at fighting this.

“She’s trying. I think she wants to make it up to you, and this is her way of showing her support.” This was partly true, Quinn realised. When she had told her mother that a spa day was occurring for Santana’s bachelorette party, she had actually seemed interested. Though this had nothing to do with why Quinn was pushing it, which Santana clearly knew.

“Rubbish! You just don’t want her knowing you like looking at tits!” And who could blame Quinn for not wanting that?

“How crude,” she drawled, changing her heels until she was ready for Brittany. She was picking her up in about ten minutes for their night out.

“Am I wrong?” Santana argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Will you do this for me? Please?” Quinn didn’t need to deny it, they both knew it was true, but it was with one final look she managed to seal the deal.

“Uh, you’ve pure evil. Fine! Fine, I’ll take her to the spa,” Santana relented, dropping her shoulders in defeat.

“Yes!” Squealing happily, Quinn hugged her fiancée tight and began planting kisses all over her face. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Santana waved her off and grabbed her phone. Sending a quick text to Rachel to let her know Judy would be joining them, she dropped onto the bed only to see Quinn still watching her with a content smile. “What is it?”

“I hope our marriage is like this,” Quinn mused.

“What? Filled with sexual bargaining chips and my inability to form a backbone?” Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes at Santana’s dramatics.

“No, though I do enjoy the sexual bargaining chips, but this, us. I don’t want us to become one of those couples who can’t even stand to be in the same room as each other. I want us to stay happy, like we are now.”

Santana chanced a look back to her fiancée and shrugged her shoulder, agreeing but not coming out and saying as much. Quinn just laughed and moved over to take Santana’s face in her hands, cupping her cheeks.

“Just be thankful that Frannie isn’t in town yet, because I’m sure she would have wanted a spa day, too.” Santana’s eyes widened at the thought of her soon to be sister-in-law, and then Quinn pulled her into a deep kiss. “Have a good time, and if my mother says anything, use that fiery attitude I love so much and give her hell. I’ll see you on Sunday.” Another kiss, another contented sigh falling from her lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Santana murmured, kissing Quinn once more before letting her leave.

Sitting on the bed, Santana couldn’t but be thankful that Frannie indeed wasn’t in town. She was not ready to be around her, yet. The buzzing of her phone brought her out of those thoughts, and she checked to see a message from Rachel.

_I called Judy and she’s actually in the city so Tina is picking her up first and then coming to get you. I’m heading up with Sebastian and Dave. See you there!_

Oh, just great. Maybe Santana had been thankful too soon, because a three-hour car journey with Judy Fabray did not sound like a good start to her spa weekend.

Not a good start at all.

*0*0*

Santana might not have given Judy enough credit.

The woman actually had been rather pleasant the whole ride up, and when they arrived, she even offered to give them their space for dinner. Rachel insisted she stay, of course, which was good because Santana probably wouldn’t have.

However, even throughout dinner with talk of the wedding, of Quinn and Santana’s plans for the future, a house, kids, she didn’t look put off in the least. She was trying, she was genuinely trying, and Santana couldn’t fault her for it.

Maybe whatever Quinn had said that day she went to visit them had scared her enough to kick the habit when Santana was around. Maybe she didn’t want to risk losing access to any grandkids when Quinn and Santana finally did decide that was the next step to take, because God knows Frannie Fabray wasn’t going to have them any time soon. Maybe she even felt bad, because there looked to be a sadness behind her eyes when she heard about things Santana had never spoke about amongst the Fabrays.

Whatever it was, she was trying, and Santana didn’t even need to hold her tongue. Hell, she even contributed enough for the whole situation not to be awkward in the least. Sebastian helped a lot with that, and thanks to his background of living among the types of the Fabrays before, he knew just how to schmooze the woman enough for Santana to relax.

That’s what the whole weekend was about, relaxing, and to Rachel’s credit, Santana did find herself relaxing. Okay, the seven a.m. wake up call the next morning was not welcome, but by the first treatment at eight, she was easing up.

Of course, Santana couldn’t help think about what Quinn was up to, what she had been up to, but Rachel made a rule that every time Santana got that distanced look in her eyes when thinking about her fiancée, one of them was allowed to pinch her.

After the sixth time of that happening, Santana was growing annoyed and realised she needed to stop. Her bachelorette weekend might be calm and easy going, while her fiancée’s was wild and booze filled, that didn’t mean anything was going to happen.

She trusted Quinn completely, but just the thought of her fiancée watching women tease and titillate the crowd had Santana growing angsty. If she had been there, sitting right next to Quinn, they could have made a game of it, which probably would have resulted in some fantastic drunken sex afterwards, but that wasn’t happening.

Instead, she had to think about her soon to be wife getting drunk and watching half naked women dance.

“You couldn’t have just thrown me a normal bachelorette party, could you, Rachel?” Santana grunted in between treatments.

The brunette looked offended but Tina waved it off. It was then that Santana noticed a wicked smirk on Sebastian and Dave’s faces and knew there was something she hadn’t been told.

“What’s going on?” she drawled slowly, looking between them all as she did so.

Judy was the only one who looked remotely as lost as Santana did, and that didn’t bode well. She seemed to sense the change in the room and stepped out, citing the need to freshen up before the next treatment.

“Quinn’s going to make it up to you,” Dave answered once the door had shut behind Judy. “Sometime between when we get back and before we leave for the wedding, she’s going to make it up for you. I really wouldn’t be complaining.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sebastian added, his smirk increasing.

Oh good lord. What was her fiancée up to?

“We weren’t meant to tell her,” Rachel protested, shooting the guys a dirty look. They scoffed as if they that mattered.

“You all know about it?”

“Quinn wanted to make sure you had that night free, so yeah…we all know.”

“We don’t know what she’s got planned exactly, just some of the rougher details,” Tina explained, seeing the hint of fire behind Santana’s eyes about them knowing everything. That eased things up once more, and her brain was back to considering just what Quinn had up her sleeve.

Thank God, Judy had left for this conversation. That would have been so uncomfortable.

“So while this is my bachelorette party, she’s…?”

“She’s throwing you your own private one,” Sebastian finished. “Enjoy the spa treatment, because I’m sure you’ll need to be well rested for your return.”

“I love her,” Santana declared, spacing out at the possibilities, to the amusement of the others.

It was then that Judy returned, looking a little nervous at doing so, but Rachel was quick to pull her into a conversation about the latest Broadway show, knowing full well the woman loved the theatre. Santana actually felt a little guilty about not making the effort to try with Judy, to at least extend the olive branch, but then again, she had plenty of time. Plus, she couldn’t bear to look the woman in the eye with the thoughts that had just been filtering through her mind about Quinn.

From them on, the group moved from treatment to treatment, splintering off for some and meeting again for the others. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that Santana found herself alone with Judy, something she hadn’t been expecting. The others were spending fifteen minutes in the Jacuzzi before the next treatment, but Santana had forgone that so she could have a little down time. She had not been expecting her soon to be mother-in-law joining her.

Giving Judy a friendly smile, Santana sipped at her water and tried to pretend it wasn’t completely awkward. She felt like she should say something, anything, to ease the tension, but she her mind was blank. Why the fuck did that happen, whenever you desperately needed to think of something you suddenly couldn’t? What was up with that?

“Santana, can I…can I talk to you for a second?” Judy asked, being the one to find courage first.

“Yeah, sure,” she answered, hoping the older woman didn’t notice how tense she got when she spoke.

Santana actually was feeling rather nervous, now. Before, the awkward tension just made her feel uncomfortable, but now, Judy wanted to talk to her, and that couldn’t be a good thing. Quinn did say that her mother was trying, though, so maybe she was jumping to the wrong conclusions.

“I…I want to apologise, on behalf of Russell and I, for our behaviour towards you,” Judy said, and yeah, Santana had definitely jumped to the wrong conclusions.

“Mrs Fabray, you don’t need to-“ she quickly said, interrupting her, not wanting her to feel obligated to apologise. That apology would be worse than no apology, and Santana didn’t want that at all.

“Judy, you should call me Judy,” she said, attempting to smile. It looked more like a wince, as if she was unsure what Santana’s reaction would be, but she only nodded, accepting Judy’s offer.

“Okay, _Judy_ , you don’t need to apologise, alright-“

“I do. We do.” Santana wanted to point out how Russell actually wasn’t apologising to her, just getting his wife to do it for him because that was the polite thing to do, but whatever. She had to let some things go.

“Quinn, she seemed very upset last time she was through seeing us, and she made things very clear,” Judy began, and Santana found herself steeling her defence tactics in case they were needed. “I want you to know that we’re not… _I’m_ not apologising to you so that I can stay in Quinn’s life, there’s more to it than that. I’ve never done very well by Quinn, and I guess that’s a good thing because she has become this extraordinary woman, as you obviously know. What I’m saying is that I want to do better by her. She’s marrying you in less than a week, which means you’re going to be family, and if there’s one thing I need to work on, it’s loving and protecting my family. So, Santana, I hope you can accept my apology, and know that I’m trying to make things better. You make Quinn so happy, and that’s all I want for her. As long as you can continue to do that, you’ll always be welcome.”

Santana sat speechless, not expecting this in the least. Where the hell had that come from?

She honestly didn’t know what to say, and all she could do was nod, her mouth agape in confusion, a little bit of a frown marring her brow, and her thoughts travelling a thousand miles a second. That had to be the most surreal moment in this whole wedding planning debacle so far.

Thankfully, Judy didn’t take Santana’s silence as rudeness, but rather as acceptance, and carefully reached out to give her almost daughter-in-law a pat on the shoulder, before making her leave. She didn’t want to overwhelm the woman.

“You okay? You looked daze,” Tina said, having entered the door Judy just left through.

“Yep, I’m good,” Santana replied, nodding again. And she was.

Judy’s words held a lot of merit, and Santana wasn’t going to dismiss them carelessly. She had to start trying, too. After all, that had probably taken a lot of guts for Judy to do that, and if there was one thing Santana appreciated, it was bravery in the face of the unknown. So yes, she was going to give Judy a chance.

 Quinn would be so pleased.

*0*0*

Arriving back home, Santana took a moment to recollect herself before heading inside her apartment. She was tired from the drive back, and she wanted to see Quinn, and good lord, she wanted to lie down, preferably with Quinn. Briefly, she wondered if she could pull off such a feat without it leading to sex, because good lord she’d missed that, too.

“You’re home!” Quinn called out from the couch, hopping up to come greet Santana by the door. “And you look grumpy,” she teased, ignoring her fiancée’s eye roll, and wrapping her arms round her neck.

“Hi,” Santana murmured, dropping her head into the crook of Quinn’s neck and hugging her tight.

“Oh, okay, is something wrong? Did your bachelorette party not go as planned?” Quinn asked, a little surprised by the sudden affection. “Was my mother a problem?”

“No, Judy was actually really nice, which sucks, because I can’t be mean to your father knowing it’ll upset her,” Santana answered, her voice muffled from her position, and Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her words.

“Right…you know, you’re not actually meant to be mean to my father?” she said, looking down at the body slumped against her.

“But he’s such a douche. Can we go lie down?” was the muffled response, and Santana raised her head, practically pouting.

“You’re sleepy,” Quinn assessed, cupping Santana’s face in her hands. “And I had such plans for you,” she sighed, chuckling under her breath as she led them through the apartment and into their bedroom.

Santana was being completely useless as she tried to pull off her clothes, and only with a little help from Quinn did she manage to get herself changed into a sleep shirt and underwear. It didn’t matter that it was eleven in the morning, Santana was going back to bed, and dammit, her fiancée was joining her.

Quinn had no objections, and after changing herself, she slipped under the covers to join Santana in bed. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around the smaller body, and gently caressed the skin available to her, having missed this contact the last few days. Granted it had only been two nights, but those were some long forty-eight hours.

“How was your bachelorette party?” Santana asked, rolling onto her side to face Quinn, reaching out to take hold of her hand. “Meet any hot girls? Get any numbers?”

“You’re jealousy is misplaced, sweetheart,” Quinn cooed, smirking as she did so. “And my bachelorette party went very well. We had a great dinner at a great restaurant I want to take you to on our next date night, and then spent most of the evening at the burlesque club.”

Surprisingly, Quinn’s bachelorette party was a lot calmer than she imagined it being. Brittany seemed to be keen to ramp up the party aspect of it, but the dinner was nothing but a happy celebratory meal, and the club itself was classy and upmarket. She hadn’t even gotten drunk there, only managing a nice buzz instead.

“So no numbers?” Santana repeated, squeezing Quinn’s hand gently, closing her eyes briefly.

“Not for me. Brittany picked up quite a few, and so did Kurt, actually,” Quinn answered, frowning at how that had turned out. “But no, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I do trust you,” Santana said, fighting her drooping eyelids, her words sounding slurred.

“I know you do, but you don’t trust other people,” Quinn supplied, watching her fight sleep in amusement. She was going to nod off any minute now, there was no stopping it.

“Damn right,” Santana shot out in agreement, forever convinced that everyone else was a creep around Q. That opinion hadn’t changed after years, and it was now something Quinn was used to.

Chuckling in amusement at how exhausted Santana was, Quinn kissed her softly and began running her hands up and down her body.

“I had hoped that we could spend the day in bed, but this wasn’t really what I had in mind,” she teased, knowing Santana was still awake.

“Sleep now, sex later, promise,” was the response, and she cracked a smile.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” Quinn replied, snuggling closer, ready to follow Santana’s wishes for a change.

“Love you, Q,” Santana murmured after a moment of silence, rolling over and pulling Quinn with her.

With Santana’s back now pressed to her front, she shuffled into her more, and wrapped her arm round the front of her body, before kissing her softly on the cheek.

“You too, S.” And it was with that elated feeling Quinn closed her eyes and tried to get to sleep.

They were getting married in less than a week, which meant things were about to get exceedingly crazy, and she was sure she would turn back into Bridezilla. So this moment, that moment right there was precious. It was the much needed downtime that was necessary to make this work. If they could keep this up, find time for the moments like this in the future, then Quinn knew their marriage would be a great success.

How could it not be?

*0*0*


	6. Family Gatherings

*0*0*

In the wake of the bachelorette parties, Quinn spent an inordinate amount of time going over everything for the upcoming wedding. It was less than a week away, and already, it was driving Santana around the bend. They had had one day off, that Sunday of their return, which was spent in bed, blocking out the rest of the world. But that was no more.

Since then, Santana had been tasked with ensuring that nothing went wrong. This really meant that she had a serious talk with Rachel saying that if anything fucked up, she was going to have to protect her from Quinn. There was no way she was going to allow her team to screw this up. They had to be on point, as close to perfection as possible, and she walked away feeling like that was likely given the delighted smile Rachel had on her face. She was rising to the challenge, like a champion. Santana had never been prouder.

Unfortunately, the days passed relatively quickly, far too quickly for Santana’s liking. She was ready to be married, she just couldn’t be bothered with the getting married part. It was stressful, it was chaotic, and okay, maybe she had some nerves about how this was all going to play out.

Judy had certainly eased up some of her worries, but there was Russell, and then there was her own family to think about. They were oil and water, and they were going to be stuck in the same damn hotel for the duration of this extravaganza. It presented a wider possibility of things going wrong, or maybe even, of one of them backing out.

Almost as if Rachel could hear Santana’s thoughts while they checked over the predicted arrival dates of the guests, she wondered what was going on. It didn’t take her long to jump to the one conclusion Santana didn’t want her on.

“You’re not having cold feet, are you?” Rachel asked in horror, and then seemingly calming herself.

“No, not at all,” Santana replied, shaking her head with a frown.

“If you are, we can find some form of distraction and postpone it for a bit,” she went on to add, trying to be helpful. It was sweet, but not necessary.

“I don’t have cold feet, I just…I’ll be better when we’re at the hotel,” Santana added, nodding. Though, whether she was nodding for her own benefit or Rachel’s, she didn’t know.

Those thoughts were pushed to the side, to be dealt with later. She couldn’t do anything about it until faced with the situation head on, because really, she didn’t know how her parents would act around Quinn’s. She didn’t know how the rest of their families would mix. She didn’t know if everything would go to schedule. So what was the point of stressing? She was only working herself up, and that was not what she needed for the big day ahead.

Of course, Quinn didn’t get this memo. Really, the two of them needed to start communicating better, Santana realised, but it was a bit too late by this point.

The night before they were to leave, they found themselves going over the wedding details again, and somehow getting stuck in some sort of semi-argument. They were both tired, and they really should have gone to bed already, but they were being stubborn. Obviously.

“I need everything to be perfect!” Quinn cried, waving her hand at Santana as if to say ‘make it perfect now’.

“It will be,” she drawled, sitting on the couch and letting her fiancée vent. She had tried arguing back, but it had done more damage than good, and this felt like the safer option.

“No, I’m serious, I want perfection,” Quinn repeated, running a hand through her hair, and Santana could see her unravelling. She could only agree and hope this calmed down.

“Q, it will be perfect.”

“You promise?” It was silly to ask as much, but Quinn was past caring. There was quite a bit of pressure on her to make this a success, to have their wedding be something special, and she needed assurances.

“Eh-“ Santana murmured, shrugging one shoulder. She wasn’t stupid enough to promise that in case it blew up in her face later on, which it likely would. Nothing was perfect, but clearly Quinn hadn’t come to that conclusion, or just didn’t want to accept it as fact.

“Santana!” Quinn cried, hoping for a serious response and not her fiancée’s poor attempt at humour.

“What? Q, I can’t promise that’ll it be perfect, I can’t control everything, but I will try. I promise you that I will try to make things perfect.” And that was true. Santana was doing all she could. She had spoken to Rachel, and forced her to talk to Kurt. She had tried to foresee every eventuality, but there was nothing left other than to just let the scenario play out.  

“Really?” Quinn murmured, moving across the floor to join Santana on the couch. She felt like she was losing her mind lately, and this seemed like a prime example of that.

“Yes,” Santana answered simply, hoping short and sweet answers would be the way out of this minefield.

“Okay, I guess that’ll have to do.” Rolling her eyes, Santana reminded herself why she loved the girl in front of her. It wasn’t hard to do, given those gorgeous eyes focusing on her, but still, it took longer than it should have. 

Seeing a look of confusion and exasperation in Santana’s eyes, Quinn opened her mouth to explain. She wanted Santana to know, to maybe understand; why she was feeling the way she was, to know why she was striving so hard for this to be perfect.

“I want us to start in the right way. If our wedding is perfect, our marriage might be, too,” she said, realising how naïve that sounded as she spoke, but it was what she thought, and she couldn’t change that.

“Q, you’re so setting me up to fail,” Santana said sadly, wincing at the thought. Though, she did have to hide a small smile at how innocent Quinn’s view was. It reminded her of their younger years, before they’d been forced to adapt and grow up.

“I am not!” Quinn replied, shaking her head. She wasn’t, she really wasn’t.

“You are. I’m going to fuck things up, somewhere down the line, and you’re going to think ‘why the hell did I marry her?’ and I’m okay with that. Just please, don’t put me on a pedestal cause I won’t be up there long.”

Hell, Santana predicted she’d only last a couple of hours before Quinn thought exactly that. She didn’t have a brilliant track record when it came to staying out the proverbial dog house. They fought like cat and dog, and any excuse to wind Quinn up was worth jumping on. But it was equalled out when she did it in return, making turnabout fair play. This would be no different on their wedding day.

Just thinking about when she would first piss Quinn off after saying ‘I do’ made Santana wonder how much cash she could make if she was right. It definitely sounded like a bet the others could get involved in, and she knew Quinn the best so that gave her a great advantage. What a genius idea.

“I won’t think that,” Quinn said, oblivious to Santana’s scheming thoughts. The least she could do was make a little money out of all this stress.

“You will, I know you will.” God, Quinn had probably already thought it, except wondering why they were dating in the first place.

“Does that mean you’ll think that?” There was such a sadness to Quinn’s voice, and the frown marring her brow was enough to make Santana shuffle closer and pull her into her embrace.

“I’m sure there will be one day, but I’ll never regret marrying you.” She couldn’t, she just couldn’t ever regret choosing to be with this woman. That’s how she was so certain she didn’t have cold feet. Quinn was everything she wanted and more. How could she ever regret marrying her?

“Promise?” Quinn asked, holding onto Santana’s hand.

“What is with you and your promises?” she asked exasperatedly, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway. “Yes, I promise. Now, please, can we go to bed? We have to leave tomorrow, and you’ll probably remember something we’ve forgotten to do before the alarm even goes off. So please, _please_ , can we go to bed?”

Smiling softly, knowing that everything Santana had said was true, Quinn nodded and leant forward to give her fiancée a kiss. She remained nuzzled into her for a moment longer, just soaking up the peace and quiet, and then rose to her feet. The least she could do was go to bed, especially with the busy days ahead of them.

She owed Santana that, at least, for putting up with her crazy moods as of late.

*0*0*

The drive up to the venue was nowhere near as stressful as Santana predicted it would be. Quinn seemed to be talking a calmer approach to things, and with the pressure off, it really helped them. Like they had agreed, they met their wedding teams there, and after settling into rooms and agreeing when to have dinner, it was back to ensuring things were going according to plan.

Santana had to call her family to make sure they were still on their way, while Quinn did the same with hers. Rachel and Kurt were dishing out jobs to the other members of the wedding teams, all trying to get as much done while they could. As soon as the families arrived, and then the other guests, it would be carnage, and plans would go out the window.

That first night, everyone went to bed exhausted, which was no surprise to anyone. They knew what to expect when they had been dragged into this. Santana was just thankful they were willing to go along with everything without too many complaints. Or, maybe there were complaining, just not to her. Regardless, Quinn and her would make it up to them at some point.

The following morning, after a horrible night’s sleep spent twisting and turning, and pissing Quinn off with her constant movement, Santana was waiting in the lobby for her family’s arrival. She had received a text over breakfast from her mother saying they’d be there shortly. Apparently the Lopez clan had decided to all travel together (Santana couldn’t think of anything worse), but it actually made things easier to handle.

With them all arriving together, they wouldn’t have time to give her the third degree, they wouldn’t be able to trap her in conversation and make her late for everything else that was going on, and they wouldn’t all ask the same question a dozen times. They could only say hello, get a quick catch up, and Santana would be saved from having to repeat the same story four dozen times.

“Mija!” Freezing on the spot, an automatic reaction to her mother’s voice when she hollered like that, Santana look a deep breath before turning round to see her family.

She hadn’t actually seen them enter, which was a mystery in itself as there was about fourteen of them trekking towards her. And okay, she had missed these fools, as it had been so long since she’d seen them, so her ridiculous grin could be excused.

Being tackled into a hug, Santana was swarmed by them, chuckling and shaking her head as she did so. Then she took turns hugging each and every one of them, their luggage just abandoned on the floor, with grins on each of their faces, and pride in her parents’ eyes. God, she needed to pull herself together. She may not have seen them often, but this reaction was hardly warranted.

“We can’t believe you’re getting married!” Maribel Lopez cried, smiling as she took her daughter’s hands in her own.

“Literally, we can’t believe it. What is Quinn doing?” Santana’s younger brother, Marcus, said, frowning, only to receive a quick clout round the back of the head from his father.

“Don’t listen to him, we’re all so excited about this,” Maribel went on to say, shooting her youngest son an unimpressed look. “Now, where’s Quinn? I want to say hello to my new daughter!”

“Because clearly you don’t have enough of them,” a voice grumbled from the back, and Santana bit back her smirk at her sister’s disgruntled tone. Maribel pretended like she hadn’t heard it and awaited a response.

“She’s around…” Santana answered, glancing round the lobby to see if her fiancée was in sight. “I don’t actually know where she is right now, but I’m sure you’ll see her later. She’s busy getting everything ready,”

“You better be helping, young lady. Marriage is a two person job, and that starts before you’ve even said ‘I do’,” her father added, a small smile still on his lips.

“I am!” Santana replied, defending herself. “We’re in teams and we’re getting everything together. Don’t worry.” She wasn’t going to mention how much Quinn hated the idea of them being teams. That didn’t need to be brought to their attention.

“Well, we won’t keep you. We should check in and freshen up. We’ll be down for lunch later, though.”

“Please, I’m not busy right now,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. She really didn’t have anything planned at that moment and maybe she wanted to hang out with them a bit.

It felt good to be around them again after so long, and as her parents checked everyone in, Santana caught up with her siblings. She hadn’t seen her eldest brother, Nick, for at least a year, and he was desperate to play the role of protective big brother, even though Santana demanded that he not have a talk with Quinn about the consequences of hurting his sister.

Of course, once that conversation was raised, Luis and Marcus wanted in on it, too. Santana definitely needed to ask Kurt and Rachel to keep an eye on her family and steer them away from any private talks with Quinn. It would just be mortifying.

In true sisterly fashion, Rosa was eating it up that her older sister was at the mercy of them for the duration of the wedding. They knew every embarrassing tale, and while Quinn knew majority of them already, the rest of their friends didn’t.

So on one hand, she wanted Kurt and Rachel to play interference, and on the other, she didn’t want to let them near her siblings in case they divulged God only knows what. This was going to be so tricky to pull off.

However, now that they were there, Santana was quick to recruit them into her wedding team. Rachel never made any rules about adding people, so she gained four members, hopefully ensuring her a good win. And being the supportive gang they were, they all pledged to help keep things smooth sailing.

When they were all booked in, and Santana had hugged everyone again, not wanting to admit how much she had missed them, they headed upstairs to freshen up. They weren’t needed until tonight, where there would be the rehearsal dinner for those that were there, leaving the wedding rehearsal for tomorrow, and then the wedding the day after. God, it was close.

With their departure, Santana glanced at her watch and saw that she still had time before she needed to meet Quinn, but just before she could head back up to her room for a rest, she caught Brittany waving her over. The blonde was standing by a couch, where two bags were placed, and what looked like a strange basket on the floor next to her feet.

As Santana drew nearer, Brittany picked up the basket and began to hand it to her. Santana, hoping not to be rude for a change, accepted it and felt the weight inside move abruptly. What the hell was she holding?

“What is this?”

“Lord Tubbington!” Brittany said, grinning. Santana just about dropped the damn cat carrier and had to quickly grip the handle tighter. If Lord Tubbington would stop moving around inside the damn thing, maybe she’d stand a better chance of not letting him fall to the floor. Damn cat.

“Why are you giving him to me?” Santana asked, knowing she should be used to Brittany’s strange ways of thinking, but coming up short as to why the occasion required Lord Tubbington present.

“Because partners can’t be in the same wedding team, silly!” Brittany laughed as she answered, as if to say Santana was ridiculous for not remembering that rule, and continued to be oblivious to the shock setting in.

“Huh?” Who the hell was Lord Tubbington partnered with? Was there another cat running around Or did Brittany mean herself?

“Excuse me?” Rachel piped up, sliding into the free space between them. Where the fuck had she come from? “I couldn’t help but overhear what you just said, Brittany. Partners can’t be on the same team, so you’re giving Santana Lord Tubbington, is that right?”

Thank God Rachel was there to clean up this mess. Sooner or later, Santana would be able to hand off Lord T and put it down to Maid of Honour duties. What the hell was she going to do when she no longer had that excuse for bossing Rachel about?

“Yeah, those are the rules you made, Rach. So you guys have to have Lord Tubbington on your team,” Brittany replied, tucking hair behind her ear.  And was everyone just forgetting about that traitor Warbler? Apparently so.

“It’s not a team!” Quinn called from over the other side of the lobby, making Santana frown abruptly. Did she have fricking bat hearing? What was going on? When the fuck did she turn up?

“Brittany, I really don’t think Lord Tubbington is an acceptable-“ Rachel began, waving her hands in front of her, trying to be gentle but her tone firm.

“But Quinn said he could participate,” Brittany explained, making Rachel and Santana look at each other before turning to the blonde across the lobby, who looked surprisingly smug.

“She did?” Rachel asked, on the same page as Santana, that Quinn had done this to fuck with them.

“Oh, she did, did she?” Santana murmured, knowing she was marrying someone evil, but she didn’t think she’d be this cruel.

“Yep! Didn’t you, Q?” Brittany spun around, searching for the blonde, and didn’t have to look far as Quinn was on her way over. Clearly she knew she was going to be properly dragged into this conversation at some point and was pre-empting it. It was better coming over than continuing to call at each other across the room.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? The more the merrier, right?” Quinn said sweetly, avoiding looking at Santana completely. Did she know Santana had just recruited her family? Was that what that smile was about? No, it couldn’t be, Santana had only just done that. Side-eyeing Quinn, she frowned and wondered if her fiancée had any special abilities or powers she had been keeping in the dark.

“Right. Sure!” Rachel said, giving them her fake show smile and reaching out to take the carrier from Santana, who was all too happy to hand it off.

Brittany grinned and bid them goodbye as she was going to meet up with the others in the bar, and grabbed her bags before leaving. They all watched her walk away, and then turned to each other. Santana couldn’t help but shoot Quinn a glare, unamused with this. She was doing this to punish Santana for something, she was sure of it. Quinn just giggled and blew Santana a kiss, then sauntered her sweet ass away like nothing had happened.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Rachel asked, holding the cat carrier like it was diseased.

“Drown him.”

“Santana!” Rachel cried, frantically looking round to see if Brittany had heard them. Thankfully, she was far enough away not to have. “You cannot say things like that!”

“Oh shush, I was kidding. Go put him in one of the rooms, and set up a litter box or something. I don’t want him shitting all over the place.”

“Yes, master,” Rachel said, her voice full of fake enthusiasm.

“Don’t sass me, I’m this close to the edge,” Santana replied, showing how close by holding up her fingers and indicating to the small space she’d left between them.

“Isn’t that a song?” Rachel wondered, frowning in thought.

“No. Now go take care of the damn cat.”

“And here I thought pussy was your speciality,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she made for the elevators. If Santana had the time, she would have charged after her and gone Lima Heights on her ass, but Quinn was now standing across the lobby with her parents, looking at her expectantly.

Just fucking great, lunch with the soon to be in-laws.

Santana would much rather have been upstairs with Lord Tubbington.

*0*0*

Apparently, Judy wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to make an effort with Santana, because the woman was a saint all throughout lunch. Russell was still a douche, but such a sly one at that, and Quinn couldn’t pick up on his particular brand of cocky looks and digging comments. Santana did see her fiancé frown at him in thought, and she was sure Quinn had clocked on, but she moved on quickly from that.  Judy caught it, and she was singing Santana’s praises for God only knows what. It was very surreal.

The lunch itself really was a bad idea all round, Santana noted. Not only was she stuck with the Fabrays, but as they were eating in the main restaurant, all the arriving guests and family came over to say hi. Now Santana wouldn’t have had a problem with them doing so if it was her family coming on by, but no, they waved from afar.

Instead, Santana had to endure twenty minute interruptions with three uncles who didn’t look her way once, an aunt who kept calling her by the wrong name, and some cousins that wouldn’t stop looking at her tits.

What kind of family was she marrying into, seriously?

Quinn was getting the polite and well-mannered group that welcomed everyone in and bent over backwards to protect each other. Santana was getting the bigoted and ignorant group that looked down on anyone who wasn’t white or rich. If Quinn wasn’t so fucking amazing, she’d be convinced she was being short changed in this marriage.

Once lunch was over, Quinn wanted to have a lie down, which Santana thought was the best idea ever, and the two of them headed up to the room. There was no euphemism behind her words, they were both just dreadfully tired, and a nap was perfect.

Quinn took the right side, Santana the left, and they met in the middle.

There was no qualms about it, they just needed to sleep. It was a welcomed break from the madness that was going on; the constant streams of guests arriving, all the details needing finalised for the rehearsals and then the actual wedding, along with any last minute drama that was cropping up (i.e. Lord Tubbington).

This was exactly the rest they needed to calm things down, and Santana just wished she could have gotten more of it.

Honestly, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when there was knocking on the door several hours later. The short nap had turned into a much longer nap, and while they did have to get up, neither of them wanted to. But the knocking continued, and it was impossible to ignore.

“I’ll go,” Santana grumbled, rolling out of bed, hair a mess, still groggy, leaving Quinn in the bed behind her.

She assumed it was Rachel or Kurt, coming to check over details or alert them to some drama, and she was fully prepared to kick their asses for the interruption, but all words were lost when she saw the all too familiar blonde staring back at her.

“Oh God, I forgot how tan you were,” Frannie Fabray said, scrunching up her nose and frowning. Her eyes flickered over Santana’s form quickly, and then she promptly pushed past Santana and headed into the room.

The Devil had just arrived. Fantastic.

“Quinnie!” Frannie called in a sing-song voice, and Santana could hear her fiancée darting to get out of bed before her squeals followed.

“Frannie! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here? I didn’t think your flight came in until tomorrow,” Quinn gushed, hugging her sister tightly, while Santana  shut the door to their suite and moved to take a seat on the couch.

The two sisters conversed and caught up rather quickly, both lost in their own little bubble, and Santana tuned most of their conversation out. She had witnessed this encounter hundreds of times, and while Quinn might not want to admit it, she adored her older sister, flaws and all. There was nothing that Francine Fabray could do wrong, in any of the family’s eyes.

She’d not only graduated top of her class but also went on to marry a blue blooded Caucasian male who was destined to take over some form of public office. She was the epitome of perfect, as far as the Fabray’s were concerned, and everything Russell and Judy ever wanted.

Quinn, having grown up in her sister’s shadow most of the time did try and follow in her footsteps, but after one too many bumps in the road, she thankfully gave up. If she hadn’t, Santana was certain that the two of them wouldn’t even be friends, let alone getting married.

However, that didn’t mean Quinn still didn’t strive to be like her sister, and not that she didn’t take her sister’s opinion into account, because Quinn certainly did. That was one of the worries Santana had with Frannie’s presence, and almost like clockwork, when she tuned in to hear how they were getting along, it was obvious Frannie was making her stance on the wedding clear.

“If you have one moment of doubt, one moment of uncertainty, I want you to come to me and we can talk it out. You can always change your mind, even if you’re at the altar, you can still change your mind. Everyone will understand. We all make mistakes-“

“Frannie, I’m sitting right here,” Santana said, frowning and crossing her arms at the audacity of her soon to be sister-in-law. A mistake, pft, she wasn’t a mistake.

“I know,” Frannie answered dismissively. “Seriously, Quinn, if you change your mind, I have a car rented with a tank full of gas that can take us to the nearest airport and we can soak up the sun in Tahiti. Just say the word and we’ll be away.”

“While I appreciate the offer, I’m going to decline, Fran,” Quinn said diplomatically, patting her sisters arm as if she didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Frannie winked, attempting to be subtle and failing miserably, before bidding Quinn goodnight. She completely ignored Santana as she headed for the door.

“Lovely seeing you too, Francine!” Santana called after her as the suite door shut with a click. Yeah, what a fantastic relationship she was going to have with her sister-in-law.

“Ignore her,” Quinn murmured, coming to wrap her arms round Santana’s neck, leaning over the back of the couch. “I’m not going to change my mind, so relax.”

“I am relaxed.” She was most definitely not, and her posture screamed as much.

“You’re also lying, I can feel the tension in your shoulders,” Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. “I guess this is to be expected, though. You have had a rather rough day. Maybe we could give you a point for making it through it all without cursing at someone in Spanish, huh?” she was teasing her, but Santana didn’t care, she’d take the point. Her team needed the point.

It really was a miracle that she made it through the day without losing it completely.

At that thought, she must have tensed up again because Quinn kneaded her shoulders gently and nuzzled into her ear. “Relax, in two days’ time I’ll be yours, forever.” Now, Santana liked the sound of that.

“Two days too long,” she added, still wishing they could just be married already.

They really should have just eloped.

“Patience, you’ll be rewarded for it,” Quinn husked, kissing the side of Santana’s jaw. It was like there was a button that just instantly turned her on. What was her fiancée doing to her? They did not have time for a quickie.

“Oh yeah?” she enquired, reaching round and leading Quinn to come sit on her lap, thighs on either sides of hers, before wrapping her arms round her neck.

“That has you interested, I see.” Quinn giggled and gave her fiancée a quick peck on the lips, missing some of the intimacy they were used to when around the other. Simple touches and calming kisses weren’t exactly easy to slip in around family lunches and final checks.

 Plus, they were now holding out for the wedding night, but each time she hugged and kissed her it was getting harder to remember why they weren’t spending their evenings losing themselves in the other. It just didn’t make sense.

And in response to Quinn’s teasing, how could Santana not be interested, that was the real question. She was sure this was some flirtatious game that had a sexual reward at the end for good behaviour, and goddammit, she wanted her reward.

So if Quinn required her to be patient, she would, she’d control her need to whine and pout about it taking so long to get married and suck it up. She’d go to the painful family lunches and endure her soon to be sister-in-law if it meant getting to marry this girl at the end of it.

 She was most definitely interested in that.  

*0*0*


	7. Best Idea Ever

*0*0*

The rehearsal dinner was the most stressful thing Santana had encountered so far. She was sitting at the bar, needing alcohol to ease her into this situation, watching the drama unfold. Quinn was working the room, charming everyone with her brilliance, beauty, and maybe Santana was falling in love with her just a little bit more. She didn’t even know how that was possible.

The Lopez family and the Fabray family had been in the room for a total of forty-three minutes so far, and as of yet, there had been no problems. Granted, majority of them hadn’t exactly mixed with the others, but it was progress.

This was just a formality,  a wise one in Santana’s opinion, to allow both families a chance to size the other up, and get to know them if they dared. It meant that come the wedding day, there wouldn’t be a million introductions that needed to take place, nor would there be any surprise faces.

On the other hand, Santana was certain that some idiot in the room was going to pick a fight and it would be shelved until the wedding day where there would be a huge brawl. She already had Dave and Sebastian keeping tabs on the more volatile members of the families, and it seemed to be working well.

Sebastian was schmoozing the Fabrays’ pants off, and Santana’s team damn well deserved a point for the way he could effortlessly talk to the Governor and then move on to talk to Quinn’s estranged cousins who looked ready to lynch the Lopez side. However, most of this was not noticed by her wife-to-be, who was ensuring she spoke to everyone in the damn room.

Santana wasn’t doing any of that. She knew the important people, she’d had to greet most of them when they arrived, but if anyone wanted to talk to her specifically, they could come over. They could all see where she was, and this way she could cut out the pointless bullshit everyone liked to speak of at these events.

Really, no one cared how excited or nervous she was for the wedding, and no one wanted to know what their future plans were in regards to children or pets. Most just wanted to give their own bit of wisdom and advice, which was equally pointless and painful because everyone damn near said the same thing, and Santana wasn’t going to pay attention to it anyway.

It was great they all were there, sure, but they were all there for Quinn’s benefit, not so much Santana’s. She would have been happy with a small wedding of just close friends and immediate family, or hell, even getting eloped. She didn’t give a hoot about Quinn’s old piano teacher’s stepson who had flown in from Chicago because Quinn was such a great friend. The fact that Santana had never heard of them usually indicated that Quinn had left a bigger lasting impression than they had on her.

To be honest, Santana had thought she had weeded out all the unnecessary guests when they had gone through the guest list, but apparently not. She was almost certain that this was all Russell’s fault, but as of yet, Santana had no proof.

Downing her drink, Santana waved the bartender for another, before feeling someone drop into the barstool on her right. Turning to see, she was met with the bemused smile of Mike, who was looking pretty good all brushed up for tonight’s dinner. Given that he was part of Quinn’s team, Santana hadn’t seen much of him during the planning, but had been assured that he was out to help.

“Aren’t you meant to be enjoying yourself? This is all for you,” he remarked, waving his hand towards the room.

“No, this is for Quinn, and our families. My job is to just ensure everything goes off without a problem.” Rightly so, and it actually felt like she was being short-changed because there was bound to be a problem somewhere down the line.

“And how’s that going?” Mike asked, waving for a drink.

“Better than expected. How’s Quinn’s team doing?” Quinn hardly told her anything, which was most likely due to the fact Santana loved to rile her up over how her idea of them being wedding parties, and not wedding teams, hadn’t stuck. Juvenile, yes, but definitely worth it when Quinn mauled her.

“We’re good, still behind in the points, apparently.” Shrugging, Mike looked unfazed by the news, but Santana was sure the rest of the team – i.e. Kurt and Quinn – wouldn’t be so blasé about it.

“Damn right you are.” Santana smirked, feeling pride for her team. As much as she moaned at them, she loved them for turning out and keeping this going so good. Without them, she’d be lost, and Quinn probably would have either left her or murdered her. Most likely the latter.

Speaking of Quinn wanting to kill her, if she was to ever find out that is…

“I want to get a bet going,” she declared, sipping her drink and turning to look at Mike. Sam, Dave and Blaine walked over, just in time to pick up the end of the conversation.

“I’m in,” Sam declared, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“You haven’t even heard the conditions or what it’s a bet on,” Blaine pointed out, frowning, being the voice of reason in the group. Ugh.

“Yeah, but I could do with some money. It’s worth a shot. So what’s the bet?” Sam was still eagerly grinning, and Santana needed to jump on that fast before he came to his senses.

“But Sam-“ Blaine began, looking unsure.

“Quiet, Warbler,” Santana barked out quickly, rolling her eyes as she did so. He was not going to talk Sam out of taking part. No way.  “You’re lucky you’re even allowed in the same room as me after you stabbed me in the back,” she warned, running her fingers around the stem of her glass. Apparently she wasn’t allowed to touch the hard liquors until after the entrees, or so Quinn said.

“You weren’t letting me do anything to help-“ Blaine pointed out, holding his hands up in innocence.

“Silence,” Santana yapped, shaking her head. Mike and Dave both waved their hands to keep Blaine from replying, and the guy got the message and shut his mouth.  “Now, the bet-“

“Yeah, what are we betting on?”

“How long it takes Quinn to make some comment about why she married me, or hinting at it being a mistake.” It was really only a matter of hours after they said ‘I do’ that it would happen. It was Quinn and her for goodness sake; it would be a miracle if they could get through the vows without bickering.

“Brilliant,” Sam grinned.  “I’m going to be rich.”

“Okay, easy. You still have to pick your times,” Santana drawled, going into her handbag to get her phone. Opening a new message in her email, she began writing everyone’s name who was wishing to take part, and then jotted down the times they were betting on. It was then a matter of the money, and as Dave didn’t want to take part, he was trusted with all the cash they coughed up.

 Sam was then off, taking Blaine with him, to recruit some others in on this bet. Forwarding the email to him, he was set up, and Dave meandered after the two to keep tabs on the money. If Santana could do it right, she’d be able to secure enough money to help pay off some of this wedding, or at least a part of the honeymoon once Russell handed over his damn cheque.

Santana knew she should be thankful he was willing to pay for half, but at this rate, she was pretty certain she wasn’t going to see a penny of his money. It wasn’t like she was struggling, but yeah, some credit cards were almost at max and she’d used some other savings to keep things going. For the less expensive things, they were being billed to the joint back account Quinn and her shared, but it felt almost wrong to charge the heftier bills there.

Whether Quinn knew of their slight cash flow issues  was another thing altogether. She hadn’t said anything, so Santana suspected not, but that was a conversation that would need to take place later on. She just wanted to get through the wedding without Quinn worrying about money, allowing herself to enjoy the event in all its glory.

And she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, Santana noted, spying Quinn surrounded by Santana’s brothers. God only knows what they were saying, and while briefly Santana worried about them pulling that big brother bullshit they were going to in order to scare Quinn if she ever hurt Santana, she decided not to intervene; especially not when Quinn was smiling like that and looked so happy.

Smiling herself, Santana’s gaze roamed the room, and then her grin changed into one of bemusement as she saw her parents waving her over. They were practically tucked in the corner of the room, which just made no sense at all, so Santana hopped off her barstool and headed over to see what was going on with them.

“Why are you hiding? Did someone say something?” Santana asked, frowning at them, but her parents just smiled back at her.

“We’re not hiding, we just wanted to do this in private,” her mother answered, reaching out to pat Santana’s arm.

“This is hardly private,” she murmured, noting the abundant number of people to their left.

“We only need a moment of your time, and this seemed like the best because after tonight you’ll be surrounded by people and it might be tricky,” her father explained.

“What are you two talking about? What’s going on?” This cryptic crap was getting to her.

Instead of answering, her mother and father grinned at each other like fools and then her mother was reaching into her handbag and pulling out an envelope. It was a bit unusual for them to be handing her over a congratulations card so early, but Santana accepted it with a shrug.

“Thanks, I’ll add it to the pile.” There was a shit load of them in their hotel room, just waiting to be opened, but Quinn said they could only be opened until after they said ‘I do’ just in case. That had filled Santana with such confidence.

“No, you should open it now.”

“Well, let me go get Quinn.” She was only across the room, it would just take a second to go get her.

“No, no, leave Quinn out of it for now,” her father answered, and that had Santana frowning deeper. What could they possibly be handing her that would not require Quinn being there for?

Briefly Santana wondered if this was some emergency ticket to get out of the country if she wanted to bail, but that thought was ridiculous, and she rolled her eyes and she began opening the envelope.

Pulling out a piece of paper, Santana’s eyes scanned over it quickly before doing a double take.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

“It’s a cheque,” Maribel replied, still smiling, but her answer had Santana backing up a few feet and shaking her head.

“No, no, we agreed you two would not pay for the wedding in any way-“ she began, only to be cut off.

“We’re not,” her father replied quickly, stepping closer to wrap his arm around her. “We’re paying for your honeymoon flights, first class, and whatever else you can get with that. You only get one wedding, one proper honeymoon, so it should be special.”

Shit, they probably had been planning and saving for this for months. While the Lopez family did live in one of the nicest areas of their town, and they both had successful careers, they were paying for all of their children to go to college if they wished. The financial burden wasn’t on their kids, and college tuition took precedent over everything else. So this, this was above and beyond what Santana expected, and she could practically feel the tears in her eyes, but she’d never forgive herself if she started crying.

Instead, she wrapped her arm round her father and leant into his embrace, and then brushed the moment off.

“So I guess divorce is off the table then,” she snarked, her hand practically shaking as she held the cheque.

“Til death do you part, don’t you forget it,” her mother chimed, seeing the effect this was having on her daughter, before pulling her into a hug.

“Right,” Santana murmured, hugging her tightly back, and then giving her father a proper hug.

Deciding it best, Santana’s parents wandered off to go mingle again, leaving Santana leaning against the wall, still staring at the cheque. It was a big gesture, a terribly sweet gesture, and fuck, she loved her family. Carefully putting the cheque back in the envelope, she put it in her bag and made a mental note not to let that out of her sight.

Santana’s eyes then sought out Quinn, as if needing to clarify this was all real and seeing her bride-to-be would ground her like it normally did. It worked, and her heart soared in her chest, once more.

Honestly, the comment she made about divorce and the brief thought of her parents giving her escape route if she changed her mind was so far from what she was feeling right then. Divorce was not something she wasn’t worried about.

While that word would never be mentioned in the soon to be formed Lopez-Fabray – or however they were working their names – household, it wasn’t something that Santana was going to fret over. Quinn loved her, and although they were bound to go through a few rough patches, they’d definitely pull through it.

At the end of the day, if Santana had to be fighting with someone, she’d rather it be Quinn than anyone else, and that spoke volumes to her. She could imagine kissing and waking up next to her, but knowing that she had to reconcile every argument and fight with whoever she was to marry really pushed the idea that her wife would need to be ‘the one’ as it were.

Quinn was that girl, for sure.

It was then that Quinn felt her watching and turned to find her. Grinning at the sight of her fiancé, Quinn raised her hand and crooked her fingers at Santana, beckoning her over with a cheeky smile. How was she to resist?

*0*0*

As the evening wore on, and the everyone was ushered to the tables, Santana was happy to have a few drinks in her system. Quinn didn’t even look bothered by her coping mechanism when they sat down to eat. Maybe Quinn knew Santana would need it given it was only those two and both of their parents, just to allow them to get to know each other better. The wedding teams were separated amongst other families members and God, Santana wanted to kill one of them for their seats. However, no dice.

At first, conversation was strained. The friendly atmosphere in the room wasn’t affecting this table in particular, and it felt a little icy. But then Judy was quick to extend the same olive branch she had to Santana to the Lopez family present, and Santana’s parents ate that shit up. They’d heard, and witnessed, some of the Fabray bullshit in the past, so to see a genuine form of friendship being extended, it really went far.

Russell was, of course, keeping himself to himself, and he really only spoke to Quinn and his wife. Even when directly questioned, he gave short answers, and it was really fucking rude. Santana was pleading with her eyes for her father not to call him out on his antics, and thankfully the message was well received. Quinn just looked positively mortified by it, and she sent apologetic looks towards Santana’s parents.

They loved her anyway, so this wasn’t going to change things. If anything, it would probably make them love Quinn more, just seeing who she’s had to grow up and contend with. Santana surely had been sympathetic to all Quinn’s hang ups when she knew the root of all evils.

Even with Russell’s bullshit, they still managed to have a pretty good rehearsal dinner, and that’s all that mattered in Santana’s eyes. Quinn certainly had a good time chatting with her mom and Santana’s dad, while Maribel was looking proudly at her daughter for whatever reason. She probably thought it was a miracle Santana had managed to settle down at all, let alone with someone as wondering as Quinn, because God only knows that’s what she thought half of the time.

After the dinner was officially over, though they were still serving coffee and drinks, several guests decided to head up to their rooms, including their parents. It was getting late, but not that late, and Quinn said that they needed to be one of the last to leave as it would be rude. Santana thought it was rude people were loitering around and making her wait.

She wanted her bed with her fiancé lying next to her; not hanging around listening to the mundane conversation she had managed to avoid earlier on in the evening. Thankfully, her Maid of Honour was saving her. Quinn was talking about fuck knows what to fuck knows who while Santana had been standing by, nodding and smiling occasionally. It was a quick wave and side eye from Rachel that had her excusing herself to see what was going on.

“Who is that?” Rachel asked as soon as she was within hearing shot, sipping her drink, looking coyly across the room.

“Who?” Santana frowned and tried to follow Rachel’s gaze. It was a bit worrying to see the girl giving bedroom eyes across the room as the place was filled with family members. They were either going to be her lovable side or Quinn’s scary side, and knowing Rachel’s taste it would be one of Quinn’s cousins or something.

“The guy at the bar, red tie, white shirt, still wearing his suit jacket.” Yeah, that did nothing to help Santana find out who Rachel meant.

“Be more specific,” she muttered, eyeing up the group of men there. So maybe not one of Quinn’s cousins or something. Now she wished it was.

“That one, the one the bartender is talking to,” Rachel added quickly, practically preening herself as she stood there.

“Why?” Santana asked sceptically, eyeing up Rachel again, not liking the looks she was shooting that way one bit.

“He was on your invite list, right?” she asked for clarification, sipping her drink again, before fixing her hair.

“What about it?” It was hard to keep the clipped tone at bay, but she felt like she did a pretty convincing job. Though, maybe not as convincing as she would have liked because Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked at her in shock.

“Santana, who is he? I just want to know if he’s single. The last thing I want to do is hit on someone’s husband or boyfriend,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders. Her reasoning was pretty sound, but no.

“But it’s perfectly okay for you to hit on my brother?” Santana asked scathingly, trying to control her glare.

“That’s your brother?” Rachel asked, much louder than before, and whipped her head round to look at him again. “God, you kept that quiet.” Jesus, Santana felt violated just seeing the looks she was sending him.

“Stop, and stop looking at him.” Reaching out, Santana spun Rachel away from the bar, so she was facing Santana directly. This move was unperturbed by Rachel completely.

“How many brothers do you have? I thought I met them earlier,” she went on to explain her surprise, but it wasn’t working.

“I have three.” And clearly Rachel hadn’t met them all earlier.

“Ah. So what’s his name?” Pft, like Santana was going to hand over that  piece of information. She wanted to stop this train wreck before it had a chance of occurring.

“I’m not telling you,” she replied simply, and Rachel looked aghast at her.

“Santana!” she cried, dropping her mouth open in shock.

“No, as my maid of honour, I forbid you, I forbid you-“ Santana began, waving her finger and shaking her head, only to be interrupted just as she was getting on a roll. What the fuck?

“Hey,” Nick greeted, coming to stand next to Rachel, looking at Santana with a smug little smile on his lips. Bastard must have seen Rachel checking him out. Fucking asshole.

“Hi,” Rachel chimed, turning to smile at the new arrival like he was a gift from God.

Santana could have slapped her brother right there and then, for daring to complicate these matters anymore, and then she could have slapped Rachel for ignoring the part where she had just said her brother was forbidden.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Nick said, holding out a glass of champagne to Rachel, who accepted it with a blush.

“You are, fuck off,” Santana barked, pushing on his shoulder to move him away. Seeing as he was a lot bigger than her, he barely moved, but the idea was there.  

“Santana!” Rachel cried out, horrified. She was an only child so of course she was scandalised by their behaviour.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. She’s harmless,” Nick explained, still grinning, and no, no, no. He was trying to be sweet and charming, and Rachel was eating that shit up, and no, no, no.

“Stop it now, before I cut you,” she warned, glaring at her brother. He didn’t even notice, too busy eyeing up her Maid of Honour. Well, that shit wasn’t going to fly.

“Oh, things are looking a little tense over here, everything okay?” Quinn asked, suddenly  swooping in and wrapping her arm around Santana’s waist. She clearly knew Santana was a good few seconds away from attacking someone.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Nick answered, finally taking his eyes off Rachel to smile at Quinn.

“Great?! You’re trying to screw my Maid of Honour-“

“Oh good heavens,” Rachel muttered, closing her eyes in mortification, while Nick just chuckled at her. Laugh it up asshole, Santana was going to have his ass by morning.

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” Quinn chimed, rapidly pulling Santana away from Rachel and Nick. “What’s up with you?” she cooed once the two of them had made it to the other side of the room, despite Santana’s huffing and puffing about leaving them alone.

Quinn was looking at Santana with such bemusement, and all Santana could do was pout and whine at the back of her throat like a puppy dog. She knew she wasn’t going to get to go back over there and tell Rachel her brother was married – even though he wasn’t – or tell Nick that Rachel was crazy – which was technically true.

“They’re not allowed to mix, they’re on the same team,” Santana whined, causing Quinn to laugh at her.

“I hate to break it to you, but your siblings aren’t in your team,” Quinn answered, shaking her head, and briefly wondering just how much her fiancée had been drinking during dinner. She hadn’t really been keeping an eye on her, but knowing Santana, she probably had a flask on her body somewhere.

“Yeah they are! I recruited them earlier,” Santana explained, nodding her head eagerly, as if this was enough cause for her to go back and break the two of them apart.

“You what? You can’t do that, that’s cheating.” Please. Santana rolled her eyes and shook her head, much to Quinn’s annoyance.  

“No, it’s not. Nowhere in the rules does it say we can’t add members. Plus, I need them.” It was as simple as that. Now why the hell were they wasting time having this conversation when Santana had more important things to do; like spread a rumour that Nick had herpes before Rachel got him in an elevator.

“What for?” Quinn asked, wondering what Santana could possibly need her siblings for. Her team was managing just fine without any additional support, so why was Santana’s different.

“Damage control. Do you know how many times Luis had to intervene my father’s path when he was on his way to speak to yours? Now Judy was great, she was being a total sweetheart to my mother, and I kinda love her a little for that, but fuck, your father was being his normal douchebag self and no, my father will knock his teeth out for that shit.” Santana shrugged and held her hands up. “I need them.”

How was Quinn to argue with that logic?

“So you needed them on your team, good thinking. I knew I was marrying you for a reason,” Quinn agreed, but back to the topic at hand. “But why the hostility towards Rachel and Nick? They’re grownups, they can do what they like.

“Yeah but I’d rather they didn’t do each other, thank you very much,” Santana argued. “I mean, how would you feel if Sam wanted to screw Frannie?” Fucking hell, even thinking such a thought had her feeling sorry for Sam and cringing.

“He’s with Mercedes, and he would never,” Quinn answered, not phased in the least.

“Yeah, but let’s just say he was. How would you feel?”

“Frannie can do what she wants, so can Sam.” She shrugged, as if to say ‘so what?’ and Santana’s lip curled in disgust.

“Ugh, you infuriate me.” Damn woman and her tolerable attitude.

“I thought you loved me,” Quinn cooed, now laughing, and planting a kiss on Santana’s cheek.

“That too,” she muttered in reply, and earned herself another kiss, though this time on the lips. Santana was content with staying there, enjoying the feeling of Quinn pressed against her, but it didn’t last.

“I want to see a few more people tonight, before they head up to bed. You be good, and I’ll see you later,” Quinn said, giving her one last peck, and then she wandered off.

How she could go from sharing an almost intimate moment with her to thinking of catching up with her twice removed cousins was lost on Santana, and she tried not to be offended that her kisses hadn’t rendered Quinn incoherent. She’d need to work on that.

Of course, with Quinn busy, Santana ended back at the bar, but this time with Sebastian. He was filling her in on most of the antics of the evening, and what he had learnt about the crazier Fabrays that needed to be watched out for. Santana provided the list of names of the more volatile Lopez’s and with the rest of the guys, they organised a plan of action on how to keep the family members separate for most of the wedding.

Then she was dragged away by her aunts to come and coo about Quinn and their future. That conversation was harder to get through, and she wished she’d grabbed her drink before being pulled away, but alas.

They were talking babies and pets, and Santana’s head was swimming. She just wanted to get through the next few days without any hiccups, not planning what their first born will be named or when they’ll start fertility treatments. Come on, let her enjoy the moment.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of these things, it was more Quinn and her were being careful. There was no need to rush, and when the time was right, they’d talk about when to have kids, and when to get a pet or whatever. It would happen, but it wasn’t something they were actively counting down to.

No way. The only thing Santana was counting down to right now was getting married and all the hot sex she’d get to have afterwards. That was it. No fertility talks, no doctors’ appointments, no babies, no pets; it was nothing but saying ‘I do’ and how soon afterwards she could sneak them away for a quickie somewhere. That would probably never fly, because Quinn was expecting her wedding night to be special, but Santana could dream.

Speaking of dreams, was that Quinn singing ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ with Tina and Brittany?

Yep, that’s exactly what that was.

Across the room, Santana could see – and hear – her fiancée, flanked by the other two, singing away, clearly rat-arsed, as they serenaded what looked like the rest of their friends. Santana had only left her for about an hour, how had she ended up in this state?

Though, they sounded pretty good, and it was like a siren call, pulling Santana closer until she found herself standing just at the edge of their friends, mesmerised by Quinn’s performance. She looked gorgeous, in her element, and yeah, okay, all this wedding shit was worth it for moments like this.

Once the song was over, and they accepted their applause, Quinn came barrelling over, grinning brightly, and practically knocking Santana down as she wrapped her arms around her neck, and kissed her hard. It was a little sloppier than usual, but still as addicting, and if they weren’t in a room full of people, Santana would have snuck a boob grope in there, too. Shame.

“We’re getting married in two days,” Quinn whispered, or rather, attempted to whisper.

“I know,”  she murmured, kissing Quinn’s forehead as she walked backwards, leading them away from the rest of the group. “How crazy is that?” It still felt a little surreal at times.

“Insane,” Quinn answered, planting a kiss on her fiancé’s cheek, or there abouts. “Who would have thought I could tie down the infamous Santana Lopez?” She grinned cheekily and fuck, Santana was so in love.

“You make me sound like a player.”

“You could have been,” Quinn murmured, shrugging, and yeah, that was probably true.

“But you got there first.” And that’s all that mattered.

“Damn right!” Quinn replied proudly, and Santana chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“How much have you been drinking?” she finally asked, cupping Quinn’s face in her hands, smelling the alcohol off her but wondering if she’d be forthcoming with her answer.

“Only a little.” Uh huh, okay.

“ _What_ have you been drinking?” That was the more important question.

“I don’t know, your sister kept handing me glasses. I wanted to bond a little better with her,” she said, pursing her lips in thought. The gesture was sweet, but surely Quinn knew not to let her guard down around the family just yet.

“Which sister?” Santana asked, frowning slightly. It was a crucial question.

“Is Marie here? I thought she didn’t get in until the day of the wedding!” Quinn asked excitedly, spinning to scan the room for Santana’s other sister.

“She couldn’t stand the idea of us all being here without her, so she finally showed up,” she explained, struggling to keep Quinn in her arms and upright in those heels. She was actually surprised they had stayed on this long.

“Well, it wasn’t Marie. Rosa was feeding me drinks. I think she likes me.” Quinn’s smile was adorable as she beamed in pride, and Santana hated to break the news to her.

“I think she was trying to get you drunk,” she said, nodding sadly, but it didn’t effect Quinn all that much.

“I think she succeeded,” she whispered like it was a big important secret. God, this girl.

“I know she did. Now come on you, let’s get you up to bed.” Enough people had definitely left for them to make their leave, and it would probably be safer to remove them from all this booze and the bad influence of their friends.

“Uh-uh-uh. No sex until the wedding night,” Quinn sang, following Santana’s lead as they began heading for the doors out into the main reception of the hotel.

“I meant to sleep, but good to know your brain is right in the gutter there, Q.” Santana chuckled, holding her hand and walking them towards the elevators.

“I can’t wait,” Quinn declared, once inside, saddled up next to her.

“Me neither,” Santana replied, leaning her forehead against Q’s, looking her right in the eyes and feeling how much she loved her. “You have no idea,” she confessed. This was met with a coy smile, and a contented sigh as Quinn closed her eyes and leant into her embrace further.

Getting married might have actually been the best idea Santana’s ever had, she realised. It had certainly brought everyone together, and by the looks of things, it had made Quinn incredibly happy, which was all that matter.

Definitely, best idea ever.

*0*0*


	8. About Damn Time

*0*0*

The day before the wedding was spent with Quinn nursing a rough hangover, Santana shooting glares at her sister, Rosa, for laughing every time she winced, and trying to keep everything going smoothly. There was only one more day until all the stress was over, until they no longer had to worry about their families clashing, or something going amiss.

Santana couldn’t wait for it to be over, and she was intending to spend the day just relaxing. Just taking it easy, relaxing in the knowledge that everything was going to come together. Only, that’s not what everyone else had planned for her.

“Okay, first things first, you need to get showered and looking good, as the photographer’s assistant wants to do a few trial poses and shots just so they know what they’re shooting tomorrow, you also have a brief but thorough wedding rehearsal with just you and Quinn, but that’s after you check everything over with the caterer downstairs. Quinn’s team was meant to do that but they’re having some kinda...thing-”

“Thing?” Santana asked, moving through the hotel suite as Rachel listed off everything that needed to be done, following Santana’s movements as she did so.

“Something’s-”

“Wrong?” Santana questioned, interrupted Rachel, before raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to use that word.” Which totally meant it was accurate.

“But something is wrong. What is it?” There really shouldn’t have been a tiny smirk toying on Santana’s lips.

“A little mix up with something. Nothing major, the wedding will still go ahead.”

“Ha! I knew my team wouldn’t be the screw ups!” Santana laughed, heading towards the bathroom for the shower she was told to take.

“I don’t think that’s the right attitude to take,” Rachel called after her.

“Don’t care, that’s a point to my team, and at this rate, we’re going to kick ass!” With that, the door was shut, leaving Rachel left alone in the suite, to look over the schedule she hadn’t even finished reading out.

Debating whether to tell Santana there was more she had to do, she opted not to. The breakfast that morning and that shower were probably going to be her only moments of respite.

*0*0*

The photographer assistant kept Quinn and Santana for what felt like hours. The amazing photographer that Kurt and Quinn found wasn’t there yet, and was arriving later that evening, but the assistant wanted to ensure everything was in place, and that tomorrow they had the maximum amount of time to get the best shots.

So, they were posing in the ballroom, the reception hall, the gardens, with more fake smiles than Santana was used to, which meant sore cheeks, and slight bickering between Quinn and her. The usual, basically.

Posing by some wasp infested hedge, Quinn was standing next to Santana, holding her hand, and smiling towards the assistant who was taking photos, tester shots, apparently. Whatever, they were to look pretty and pretend like this was the happiest day of their lives.

Please. As if.

Even the wedding day wouldn’t be Santana’s happiest day of her life. Yeah, alright, it would probably be right up there, but with the stress of the families, the wedding teams, ensuring everything was running smooth, it didn’t make it the happiest; it made it an amazing day, but a seriously stressful one, too.

So far, Santana’s happiest day, was the first night Quinn and her lived together, as a couple. Yeah, they’d stayed over at one another’s places, and they’d cohabited when on holidays, but it was different. Locking the place up, getting ready for bed, and knowing that this was the start, the start of their future together, filled Santana with a happiness she was not used to. And as of yet, she had not been able to top.

The wedding was for Quinn, for their families, for Russell’s politics, but that night, where Quinn was brushing her teeth and swaying her hips to the song in her head, Santana was completely mesmerised, because she knew, Quinn was it. They had come so far, and they had made it. The wedding was the official seal, but that night told Santana everything she needed to know about her future.

This formality, as it were, was just another hoop to jump through. One she was doing, because Quinn would kill her if she suddenly wanted to elope, but it wasn’t without some minor eye rolls and a quick grumble here and there.

“You’re not smiling properly,” Quinn said sharply, between her teeth, still trying to keep her perfect smile in place.

“How the fuck can you say that when you’re the one talking?” Santana asked back, doing the same, not breaking her smile, even if it wasn’t good enough for Quinn’s liking.

“I just think you need to look happier.”

“They’re tester shots.”

“They’re going to decide what photos we get taken tomorrow.”

“I’ll smile better tomorrow,” Santana reasoned, trying to straighten her back so she wasn’t slouching like an ape in them. That would just be another thing Quinn could nit pick at her for.

“It’ll be too late by then,” Quinn argued, finding major flaws in Santana’s reasoning.

“Whatever, like it matters.”

“It matters to me.” That was all it took, and Santana could feel her resolve slipping. Would it really hurt to smile a little brighter? No. No it wouldn’t.

Plus, thinking back over that morning and what Rachel revealed, Santana had every reason to smile a little brighter.

“That’s it, perfect!” the guy with the camera called again, giving them a thumbs up, which ugh.

“Thank you,” Quinn whispered, still keeping her smile perfectly in place. How, Santana didn’t know. Girl needed to take up ventriloquism because she pulled that shit off perfectly. Santana probably looked like she was having a stroke while trying to speak through her smile, but Quinn was acing it. No surprise there.

“No, I should really be thanking you, actually,” Santana replied, smiling wider now. It wasn’t bordering on the creep stage yet, so it was fine.

“What, why?” Quinn asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

“Your team screwed up this morning, so now I’m kicking your ass,”

“What?” Quinn asked sharply, still trying to smile for the camera.

“My team, it’s kicking your teams ass,”

“We do not have teams, we have wedding parties,”

“Whatever. Mine is winning. I am going to win,” Santana grinned, another real smile breaking through.

“I don’t think so,” Quinn said, trying not to shake her head, even though she was desperate to.

“Good luck making up the points,” Santana grinned.

“I think that’s us, these were great!” the cameraman smiled, looking at the camera in his hands, finally allowing Santana and Quinn to drop their perfect stance and smiles.

“I can still make up the points. You’re not that far enough ahead.”

“Far enough to be kicking your ass,” Santana teased, causing Quinn to roll her eyes.

“Don’t write me off yet.”

“Never do,” Santana admitted, and Quinn’s teasing smile changed to a softer one, giving Santana a look she loved but hated. It usually meant she’d done something Quinn found incredibly sweet or adorable, and those were not words Santana wasn’t to be described as.

Linking her fingers with Quinn's, Santana ignored the smile and look on her face, and led them back to the hotel. They still had a lot of things to do, but at least some of it was actually kinda fun.

*0*0*

Santana had spoken too soon, or thought too soon, rather, as right after that she was whisked away by Rachel to talk with someone at the hotel. It was not fun. It was dull and boring, and really, Quinn should have been there too, but she was picking up the pieces of what was left from that morning’s mix up. The one Santana still didn’t know the details about, and was not yet concerned for.

The meeting with the hotel guy ran long, meaning Rachel’s ridiculous military style schedule was out the window. It threw off all Santana’s later ‘appointments’, as Rachel had called them, and of course, the first one she was late for was with her wife to be; her wife to be that was looking for any way possible to help close the gap between their teams.

“You’re late,” Quinn sang. “I think that’s a point to my team.” Her smirk was wicked, and Santana shot her a glare.

“Over my dead body.”

“We can arrange that,” Quinn sassed, spinning round and heading into the ballroom for the practice run through.

They had done many rehearsals, but this one was more about the official wedding part, rather than who stood where, who walked where, and when to talk. It was to slow things down, give Quinn and Santana a chance to know what was to come when, what to say when, until the vows, and then afterwards.

“Are we ready to begin?” the officiary asked, to one grinning bride, and to one grouchy bride.

Nodding, Santana followed them inside. Looking at Quinn talking happily with the officiary, she just took a second to herself. This was their last practice, their last time before the big day. Tomorrow, they would be doing it for real, all dressed up, with a room full of people watching them, and God, that thought kinda terrified her.

Santana didn’t get stage fright, had never once suffered from it, but this was no longer about her and Quinn making a commitment to one another; it was about showcasing that to everyone, including a bunch of folk who definitely weren’t happy with the wedding going ahead.

But then Quinn shot Santana a smile, beckoning her over, and alright, maybe knowing that she was seen as the villain in this, to some of Quinn’s family at least, wasn’t actually that bad. It couldn’t be, not when Quinn was looking at her like that and making her feel that good.

No, this practice was about them, but also good to help reassure her that when there were a bunch of people wishing it would fall through, that she could focus on all the good that would be in the room. Her family, their friends, Quinn. The tiniest bit of support outshone the crippling darkness of opposition. She just had to remember that, but with her stunning wife to be looking at her like that, it probably wouldn’t be easy to forget.

*0*0*

Wedding day.

It was finally wedding day. After months of planning, packed with long days and hard nights, an excessive amount of arguments, and the possible ending of their relationship; it was finally their wedding day.

Santana thought she'd wake up feeling excited, with some panic in the back of her mind about screwing things up, but that was not the case.

Instead, she woke up ready to commit murder.

"Wakey, wakey, it's wedding day!!" cried Rachel, having burst into the room, made her way over to the bed, where she was slapping Santana's body that was seeking refuge under the covers. “Wakey, wakey, Santana! Wakey, wakey!” God, she just kept going.

"Shut the fuck up with the ‘wakey wakey’ before there is no wedding because I slaughter you and get my as arrested! " Santana barked, refusing to open her eyes.

"Well, that's not the blushing bride attitude I was expecting,” Rachel whined.

"Berry, have you ever known me to blush?” There was a brief pause while Rachel thought this over.

"No, but today could have been the day. Instead, you've ruined the good morning attitude with threats of murder."

"If anything, I think I've brightened the day up, " Santana grumbled, earning an eye roll from Rachel.

"Regardless, you need to get up and out of that bed, so let’s go!" Knowing that Rachel’s next move probably meant dragging her out the bed by her feet, Santana opened her eyes with a frown and turned to look at her maid of honour.

That was when she saw it, and now murder was looking much more likely.

"What the fuck is that on your neck?" Santana growled, causing Rachel to pale, her hand flying to the aforementioned area.

"It's not what it looks like-" Rachel began, holding her hands up in surrender to any attack Santana might have been planning. She was sitting up in the bed now, fully awake, with snixx rousing in the back of her mind.

"Not what it looks like? It looks like a fucking hickey, which is not only seriously screwed up because you’re my maid of honour and it's my wedding day where there will be hundreds of photos taken, but also, since you looked like you were ready to mount my brother the other night, I can only assume that this is his handy work!"

Rachel didn’t say anything, just looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Santana raised her eyebrows in question, waiting for her to say something, anything!

“I swear to god if you don’t come up with at least one good reason why-”

“Morning,” a new voice sang, and both Rachel and Santana turned to see Sebastian enter the suite. “What did I interrupt?” he asked, smirking, looking between the two of them.

“Nothing. Speak to you later, Santana. I need to check on things,” Rachel mumbled, taking the opportunity to hightail it out of the room.

“Get your ass back here, Berry!” Santana called, growling.

Sebastian looked from the door to Santana with a bemused frown. “Alright, what did I miss? You’re not ditching your maid of honour, are you? Because I hate to tell you, but you can’t do that on today of all days. Your sisters would be a nightmare of a choice, family feud time, and Tina doesn’t want to do it, and I don’t look good in a dress.”

Santana threw her pillow at him and finally decided to get out of the bed. She was getting married today, after all.

“So no, seriously, what did I miss?”

“She’s screwing my brother.” Even saying the words had Santana tasting poison. God, she needed to kill Nick for pulling this crap. How dare he screw her maid of honour. How dare he.

“Which one?” he questioned, looking round to suite, briefly wondering why his room wasn’t as nice as this. He should really have upgraded.

“Nick.”

“Really? Luis is cuter,” Sebastian mused, earning a filthy glare from Santana.

“I swear, if you start-” Snixx was awake now, and she was ready to beat someone, anyone, into submission.

“I’m harmless. Now come on, Quinn’s already up and out, she’s in her sister’s suite getting ready. So you need to get on it. You’re behind. Get moving, because in case you’ve forgotten, you’re getting married today,” he smiled, looking rather proud, but it was completely missed by Santana.

“Ugh, I know.” Waving her hand dismissively, Santana looked around the suite, judging what she actually needed to do, and then turned back to Sebastian. “Get Rachel, I need her, and not to murder, she needs to start acting like my maid of honour, rather than bedding my brother left, right and centre.”

“On it!” Sebastian called, heading out the room to get Rachel, leaving Santana to get ready. The sound of the shower was indication enough that he had at least fifteen minutes to get Rachel into that suite. It probably wasn’t going to be enough time to convince her Santana wasn’t going to murder Rachel, but alas.

He had his work cut out for him.

*0*0*

By the time Santana was out of the shower, Rachel was back. She had used makeup to cover the hickey on her next, thank christ, and also found Santana’s mum and sisters. Marie and her mum, Maribel, were sitting on the couch, looking excited and poised to help, while Rosa was flopped out on the bed, eyes shut like she was asleep. And Rachel, Rachel was standing around looking as uncomfortable as ever.

Yeah, she should be. If Santana dropped the bomb about her and Nick to the rest of them, she’d be facing one protective sister, one ridiculing sister, and a mother looking for grandbabies. Though, that would take the heat off Santana, so maybe she should…

“If you just want to throw on some clothes, we’ll go to the other suite. Quinn’s getting dressed in Frannie’s room, so the makeup artist, hair stylist, they’re all waiting for you,” Rachel said with a smile, and alright, okay, maybe she was shouldn’t be thrown to the wolves. She might stop helping Santana, and that would be a disaster.

“I can’t believe this day has finally come,” Maribel said, proudly, practically beaming, as Santana headed into the bedroom to grab some clothes.

“Oh, please don’t start crying again,” Rosa moaned, ignoring her sister as she rooted around in the cupboard.

“I can’t help it, look at her, she’s getting married!”

“Mami, I’m married, you didn’t get this emotional about me; and I was your first daughter to get married.”

“But it’s Santana,” Maribel replied, earning a snort from Rosa.

“Geeze, mami, thanks for that,” Santana grumbled, feeling a lot like chopped liver.

“Oh you know what I meant. You don’t let anyone in. But you’re getting married!” Yeah, they’d established that already.

“I know, in only a few hours.”

“How come you aren’t freaking out like her?” Rosa asked, stretching out further across the bed.

“I’ve practiced this shit, I know what I’m doing.” Marie started laughing, earning a glare from Santana.

“What?” she barked, pulling the last of her clothes on, and coming back into the main room of the suite.

“You think the practices are going to prepare you for today?” The look of ‘you idiot’ written across Marie’s face made Santana want to punch her, but then the photos would be a right disaster with Rachel’s skanky hickey and Marie’s black eye and her bruised hand, so she refrained herself.

Quinn would have killed her, anyway.

“Of course they are, that’s why we practiced so many damn times.” Duh.

“You practiced so many times because it needed to be like a routine, one you do automatically. You’re going to see Quinn, and everything is going to go out the window. You’re not going to be able to remember your own name, let alone when to walk here, stand there, speak then. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Bullshit,” Santana called, but her frown told everyone that she was genuinely concerned about this.

“Ignore what she’s saying, you’ll do great, now come on, lets go get you ready,” Maribel said, getting up from the couch and coming to take her daughter’s hand in hers. “You’re going to be a stunning bride.”

“I’m already stunning,” Santana bit back, following her mother to the door, with everyone coming, too.

“And so humble!” Rosa teased, earning a laugh from Marie and a smile from Rachel.

“Why did you have to bring these two idiots with you? Couldn’t you have just brought my mom?” Santana asked Rachel, rolling her eyes at them.

“Aww, don’t be like that, San!” Rosa said, and then wrapped her arm around Rachel. “Plus, we want to get to know our brother’s new girlfriend, and what better way to do that than when she’s stuck in a chair getting her hair and make up done!”

Now it was Rachel’s turn to look concerned, causing Santana to burst out laughing.

Alright, maybe the idiots weren't too bad.

*0*0*

Getting ready took ages, so much longer than Santana thought possible, but then she was done, and then she was dressed, and then everyone was freaking out about how good she looked, and all she could think about was Quinn. Where was Quinn? How was Quinn doing?

Rachel fed her updates now and then, reassuring her everything was still going great and that Frannie had not convinced her sister to flea. So that was good news. But with each ticking minute, Santana just wanted to see Quinn more and more.

Until now, where she was only minutes away from doing just that.

Waiting in one of the conference rooms, located away from the main reception room, Santana paced the floor, while Rachel stood by the door, awaiting to hear when they could go. Santana’s father was busy finding out, and would come get her when they were ready.

Quinn was in a similar room, doing exactly the same, with Russell waiting to find out when they could go. And she was with Brittany, who was probably doing an amazing job of keeping her calm. Speaking of Brittany...

“What did you do with Lord Tubbington? I thought Brittany would have expected him to walk down the aisle or some shit like that.”

“She did,” Rachel replied, waving her hand. “But I told Quinn what she had in mind, and then reminded her how many important people and contacts were at this wedding. Her father is the governor, after all. She told me she’d take care of it, and as far as I’m aware, Lord Tubbington is in Brittany’s suite.”

“Good thinking. I fucking hate that cat.”

“I know.”

Yeah, Rachel knew a lot of things, and as a Maid of Honour, she’d done a pretty spectacular job. Maybe it was time to give her some credit for what she’d helped pull off, because Santana knows that she would never have been able to do it without her.

Yeah, there were wedding teams, but Rachel and Kurt were helping organise them. They were the ones pulling it all together, going over things with Quinn, ensuring Santana was onboard, fixing the messes, and frankly, without Rachel, Santana’s pretty certain her wedding wouldn’t be that damn good.

“Thank you,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulder as she did so. Of course, it couldn't be too heartfelt, Rachel might think she was being serious.

“Pardon?” Rachel asked, frowning, as she had no idea what Santana had just mumbled out. One would think she’d be able to speak properly after all these years.

“Thanks. I mean, thank you for all you’ve done. This wedding wouldn’t be this good without you here.” Santana shrugged again, refusing to look at Rachel, but she could see the slightest smile on her face out the corner of her eye.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel replied, shrugging her shoulders, too. “Though, just so you know, when I get married, you’re going to be my Maid of Honour and I expect you to do the same,” she added, causing Santana to suddenly frown.

“I can’t, I’m sick that week.”

“Uh huh, of course you are.” Rachel rolled her eyes, and alright, fine.

“I’ll do it on one condition,” Santana relented.

“And what’s that?” Rachel looked curious, wondering what crazy stipulation she was going to have to agree to just to get her best friend to be her maid of honour.

“Quinn does it with me. God only knows she has the organisation skills to pull it off to your high standards.” Musing it over for a second, Rachel nodded.

“You have a point. Though, maybe I should just ask her instead.” And Santana’s frown was back.

“Eh, no. You asked me, I accepted, she can just be my assistant.” Smiling, Rachel tried to not laugh at how protective Santana already was of a position that she didn’t even want, supposedly.

“Can I be there when you tell Quinn that little detail?”

“Yeah, I can use you as a human shield,” Santana teased, and Rachel rolled her eyes again, laughing.

It was then that there was a knock on the door, and Rachel opened it quickly to see Mr. Lopez, looking anxious and excited.

“Whenever she’s ready,” he said, and Rachel turned to the bride herself.  

“So are you ready to get married?” she asked, needing to know one last time if they were going ahead with this. Cold feet could strike anyone, and in Rachel’s usual fashion, she had prepared for every eventuality. Frannie had a car with a full tank of gas, Rachel had guy on speed dial who could pick them up in chopper in five minutes if need be.

But it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve been ready for months, let’s do this,” Santana said, shaking off the last of the nerves, and smiling to herself.

It was finally time.

Heading to the door, she saw her father, who lit up upon seeing her, and accepted his arm. With one deep breath, they moved off, leading her to the reception room, to her wedding, to the start of a new chapter in her life, and ultimately, to where Quinn would join her.

All she wanted to do now was see Quinn.

*0*0*

 

 


End file.
